They scream and shout,

For all the hopes they go without.

All the words that pour from mothers,

All the works forged by fathers,

And all the wisdom of their betters,

Barely chafe their self-made fetters.

So clinking and crashing,

From head to foot,

They come a thrashing,

Till my works are caput.

My pains for their comforts,

Their suffrage for my peace.

An eternity of hurts,

and all my dreams to fleece.

So newly Cained am I,

for my oddity and joy.

All for their lives to toy.

My comfort for theirs,

The lone for the many.

My own sanity

Saves other's lunacy.