Constricted by his middle class values
A sadly misshapen soul
Twisted to conformity
All sings of creativity strained out
Pompously saying the obvious
As if such declarations were vital
To maintaining a social order
Afraid, this man if, of losing his comfort
Nothing is more precious than that
That comfort
The security of the known
The societally agreed upon
The accepted
No deviations, please
He cannot see how stifled a live he lives
No perspective
No ambition to be more than what fits
Sadly resigned to this dull happiness
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