Mortified

No mighty man likes to be closeness,
A man ventures on an impatient nature;
His mortifying notion is a position
Of grandeur, much likes him then.

I began to feel hatred for his personage,
Striking darkness in his baffled heart;
It was a plant of humid light this heart,
A thesis sat on the same room as it.

Had I the feeling to dodge him I would,
But in great hammers we find strength
To evade the tax we were fond about,
A burden to our youth was incomplete too far.