People who condemn me,
People who shun me,
The crowd that loathes and despises me,
Everywhere I go, the stares and fingers follow,
Yet bearing the brunt of savagery, I keep spurring forth...
Hiding and cowering, never my intention;
For my scurples are as intact as ever...
But the world of quagmire, makes them appear old and redundant...
The denial to sell my conscience labels me a worst offender...
Allowing sincereity, integrity, protest and bellows fall in the same bracket;
Leaving a bitter taste about the passion and dedication to my chosen field of career...