Rock bottom was a step up to me. Just like my left nut to my right. Treated no different than dirt. Misery is happy while being stepped. No concept of “staying in my place”, or of shackles and being a slave. This was my lot in life. Be the best dirt you can be, don’t disgrace. To the farmers who plant the seed, grass grow, much greener through me. Cows graze. Even without four stomachs, they’ll chew, and regurgitate, happily. Golden milk lactate, shipped and sold. High prices paid, no barter or debate. For years, this was fate, common place, contemplate, life wasn’t horrible, life wasn’t great. Fruit of labor stolen in front your face. Uncontested
Can’t tell it was a shady deal, unless one educates, the mechanisms society lifted up and dropped in place. Right on top of me, too much weight to stand up and topple see. In hindsight, now I know why I stayed quiet properly. Simple economics, the top of the totem pole was never the spot for me. When you try to advance be sure to look out for the opposition. They need you there. Keep the structure enact is the mission. At least one where they talk and choose to listen. Used since birth for all your worth. Discarded, call that pimping. Who I was and the possibilities of my capabilities, grew a distance. To whom does one listen, The voice that calls you dirt or the stars the glisten. Mountains out of mole hills. Molded myself out of dirt. Now finally closing the distance.