Why can't he ever understand
That my life is not his to rule?
I don't breathe under his command;
I do not follow, like a tool
His every whim. What he desires
Is not the law to me, nor is
The urgency my soul acquires
Derived entirely from his.
Whence did he come to this conclusion
That my mind was in his grip?
What is the source of his confusion -
Some prepubescent acid trip?
It's only courtesy that I
Ever listen and comply.
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