Burning the midnight candle,
My future I wish to handle
Hoping not to crumple
As I build with my dimple

Threading in this shackle
I do nothing but crackle
Seeking not to fumble
But with my pen I fiddle

In this tunnel I hope
With the devil’s cry I cope.
Blessed by the Pope;
I see light through my microscope.

Haymaker ©2015