Slaughtered Self-Esteem

Maybe, wrongly, But I tell you, strongly, I’m beginning to reckon That to one we often beckon, We our self-esteem erode, And our flesh corrode, And the very guy goad, To on our shoulders drop a load, Weighing a thousand grams of neglect, And another of disrespect, Any soul should last expect … With its awful content one can’t inspect. How does one now smiles beam, With a slaughtered self esteem, Promising only twists and turns, And a belly that’s tightly churns?