AC/DC Dirty Dog

The road to Light is not of yellow brick,
nor is it freely trod. A weighty sacrifice
is what secures one's right to plod its slick
and tricky track. Secret pleasures are the price

one must forgo. The umbridge taken at some slight,
or perceived one, cross-morphs into outrage. Ego police
storm in and rescue Smiling Baby, who bravely faced its fright.
Being precious, without a pedigree, is a fraud and a fleece.

To throw our weight around with negative lash-cracking whips,
makes us feel fierce. but serves to mask our shameful lack
of choice and true control. Even shame itself strips
and bares reverse esteem, that we may writhe upon the rack

being so, so bad. Our suffering, is us, indulging sour,
corrupted formulas, in our quests for optimal gain
of worthy ways and means. We justify ourselves each hour,
a dozen times to always see a blameless Dick or Jane.

Trapped in a world of crooked others, we try carry on
as best we can, humbly valiant against such dicey odds.
Surrendering our spurious paragon facades,
are what we must divest, and stay that way from that day on.