The dust of the day flies in my face.
Annoying and bitter dissatisfaction stinging my soul.
Fury raging in my gut from the barrage on my case.
A jumble of voices filling my cranium bowl.

Why must I let them take me down?
What makes them think they wear a crown?

My esteem has been drugged down into the depths.
Into a pit where not one can here me scream,
“I am a man, I am a man only doing my best.”
But it’s not good enough for their demented scene.

Why must I carry this continual load?
This ongoing torment, for my soul has been sold.

But there shall be a time, a time coming soon,
When away from these dictators I shall fly.
My soul set free from the constricting gloom.
Yes, I’ll let out a great and wonderful sigh.