The weight around my neck and strain on my shoulders; is this how atlas felt with the world on his shoulders? To carry everyone and everything in existence and take on responsibility with no choice in the decision? Born as a man with the burden of performance; having no value unless you're seen performing like a clown, a monkey, a circus attraction. To make others smile with no true satisfaction, seeing them happy only gives you a fraction of the fulfillment you need, but on one ever gives a damn 'bout your needs. You were born to be free, not to be used like a slave. You've never felt this much anger. Your whole life you've been lied to, and now this boiling rage deep inside you is coming out with a vengeance a motherfucking menace to a fucked up society that's taken you for granted. Going your own way? Good, they don't care. Looking out for yourself? Good, no one will do it for you. Making your own path? Good, you have a brain too. Taking life by the horns and fucking it at your favorite angle? Middle fingers up to girl that cheated on you? Middle fingers up to the world that shitted on you? Middle fingers up as you spread your wings and soar with just one thought. . . I've never felt this before.