Stock

Why must I come and bear the stone,
corroded links and pointless drone
of Rorschach statements well designed
to motivate my feeble mind?

All I want to do is create.

I sacrifice the specimen
as mindless measures steal my pen;
all contributions written off
as quickly as the rolls they doff.

Will my menial onus abate?

I struggle, every effort spent
to revel in accomplishment
which benefits my own desire—
no greater motive could inspire.

Doomed to sharing the paper’s fate!