What if your sense
Of wanting satisfaction
Was tied
To the means by which you'd achieve it?

What if I knew you wanted to win,
And both meant to let you down on that point
But also had nothing to do with your failure?

What if the chemicals of your brain
And its physiology
Were truly rigged against you? For you? Both,
At the same time,
and neither?

What if I'm tired of listening to how bored you are,
When I know the horrors you'll face?
What if I'm capable of things you will never be capable of,
No matter how hard you tried?

What if I'm always worthy,
And you have to accept you're lucky we give you anything?