Worried I’ve carved myself
Into a corner of contempt.
Worried I’ve starved myself
Of the people I resent.
Sat atop a pedestal of peerlessness;
Look down, scoff, at all of their cheerfulness –
Ignorant in bliss, ignoring what’s true;
In Unison bleating: ‘It’s not me it’s you!’.
Scared nothing will change
As long as I live.
Scared all things will change
As long as we give.
Daily gifts of grim mass servitude;
Sheer disdain at the maddening magnitude
Of fools who fight to finish freedom;
Happy to be beaten if others are bleeding.
Anxious my utter disgust
Will leave me lonely.
Anxious my complete distrust
Will be my only.
Empty hole once held my soul,
Now only swallows weakness whole.
Great maw between a general people
And the bluff of my ego, my prison, my steeple.