Forced to conform to loving thoughts
Towards the one who hates his guts.
What he needs can’t be explained, only received
Or found to be wanting, in blood-curdling screams,
The telltale augury he feels abandoned.
You say that he is only spoiled,
Unable to crack his own egg,
Unaccustomed to being left in the dark for weeks on end —
As you're sure all of us one day were,
You who couldn't put another in your place fast enough,
Like an anonymous prisoner to take your blindfold and bullet.
He makes no apologies how everything falls to him,
No, not like a king, for that involves responsibilities,
Consequences, of which there must be none —
If you can't work that jam out, how are you smart enough
To keep up with the greatness he'll tell you all about
As soon as you lace up his shoes?
O such pathos! My heart melts away!
What can I do? How can I help?
How could one end up this way?
