Everyday in this hellish heat, I am a volcano on his farm
             I productively plant the wheat, then I plant the pansy’s
             I begin to burn, still, I plough the dirt without a word
             I lay upon the grass and consume whatever he gives me
             The fat man who lives inside never gets me what I want
            The fat man only gives me what I need, and what I need
             Is a new plough, to plow the dirt and plant the pansy’s
I will erupt, but he will not allow me to, he is everything I want to be, and everything I will never achieve
He works for me, as he says, but he sits inside his Big White Home, watching as I slowly die on his farm
The ones like me, are built for death and never for wealth, as the wealth is only given to men like him
I work too hard, in this hellish heat, he will never understand why I plough the dirt and plant the pansy’s
I begin to boil, I look through the glass of his monumental home and understand what needs to be done
I wrap my hands around his throat and watch him as he slowly begins to die. He is gone, but so am I.