Pressure Cooker

Enclosed with a wrapped steeled container

Supposedly, I am born with a tag on which

Is written on, with an external guarantee

“It will not succumb to pressure, of any kind”

A warranty for life, assured by the manufacturer

I must answer and respond to all the needs

Needless to say, no matter the air pressure

Going inside my blood vessels

I will not succumb to any form of exerted force

I am a human being, considered to be a machine

I will not cede, actually, I ought not

I am required to work and live under pressure

But is really what I was begotten to do?

I give off, time to time as I feel the need

Of letting out those stiffed hot air 

And cool down a bit; the antics go on

And holding the cap, while pressing hard 

Life wants me back on track, back on track

No need to relax, it’s not the time for it

You still have so much to do

Restless I give in trying to cope with the stress

Under yet a torrid and suffocating condition

I want to eject part of my stress

I want to throw the towel; it’s becoming unbearable

To hold that kind of load, that kind of life

Accidentally, under tremendous strain, I explode

Taking onto everything on my path; dynamiting.

The truth is when you hardly breathe out, 

Your body opts from non-violence to rebellion