Can now almost taste
The escape from this place
A fate self-imposed to
Satiate my disgrace
An abatement of seldom
Placated irate
From occasional instants
Without confrontational
Indigents, feigning
Themselves as my equals
And unto my deigning
Accept them as people
If not for refraining
To make me a slave
Then for all my complaining
I'd sooner the grave
Then to lay one more night
In my erudite spite
Rife with try as I might
To look past the disdain
The contempt that we both seem to share
Is the same
And appears to be solely
The only
In common
We have
As I slowly, downtrodden,
Indifferent
Go mad