He sits rotting
In a cement cell,
It was predestined,
Really could not
Have turned out
Any other way
Given the brutality
He faced as a child,
Abject impoverishment,
Empty stomach,
Mind developing
Without the benefit of
Dignified schooling,
Moldy leaking ceilings,
Insurmountable odds
For anyone but the pompous
Blowhards who pontificate
About how anyone can
Pull himself
Out of misery without
Any help at all,
With an entire system
Rooting for his failure.
Sure, the occasional
Anomaly escapes the dungeon,
The one in one-hundred thousand,
Held up as an example
Of real opportunity,
But only an exception to the
Rigged rule,
The countless others ignored.
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