Under heel
I am not much,
But the mangled earth
That remains
In the great strides of men

No mind
No train of emotions
No hopes to ascend
To dream, to conceive, to command

There are no roots
In this bad patch of earth
No purposeful seeds to sprout
And embrace the foul world

Torn up by the heedless
I am the unknown filth
That stains every ruthless mile