Quietly, Society is bribing me, defiantly,
Plying me and prying me from,
Tongue-and-cheek and irony,
The irony of aspiring, desiring,
This American dream, although entirely,
Etched in stone, despising the new,
While complying with old,
In piling my goal as high as can go,
Sufficing to say, By flying a solo soul,
I am hiking astray, like it that way,
But night feels like day, right like left,
Heart like sleeve, demise in jest,
Enterprise the best to define the chest,
Blame is taken, part by me,
Constitution means, what we perceive,
Perception is deemed by majority wing,
And a minority swing, would be….
Ironic I think, wrinkles set free,
Just temporarily, like ironing me