Roaring with your chauvinistic narcissism
your endless propitious cause
that you offered upon your cue
of supreme destiny:
burning the anachronistic fantasies
of the domesticated house-wife:
your mother - the marvellous dictator
dictated the mouldy shoes on your mouldy toes.

But you don’t rest.
You earned your attitude, and
your prestige - not a sham! But
a fighter.

Fighters fall, too-
But too long and all remains is the indissolubility of your past
Love your shoes; move
along the caste-
like system and society’s blues.

It’s not for you.