The beginnings

Since times immemorial

A baton of wicked social order

Of the established might

Is hovering on our heads

Always ready to strike

You and I, all of us

Like meek animals

Running around aimlessly

With dropping heads

One of our hind legs

Always getting in the way of

Other

Now

I am going to turn around

Angrily

And attack the baton

And

What about you?

You, alone, have to decide

For yourself