(mostly a poetic fiction -
within a real household
where yours truly reared
with good and plenty opportunities

to be a kid videlicet reared
within an environment

for the socially and mentally impaired)
which for better or worse
gently discouraged
taking bold positive
growth development risks,
hence existence of mine
admirably, effectively, and inadvertently
tethered to an invisible orbit
around safe and secure
zone of familiarity
and even as a little boy
made excuses not to deploy
ventures antithetical
no matter I discovered myself
in a similar predicament
living in dire straits
as an introverted lad
analogous to Little Lord Fauntleroy
(an 1886 children's novel
by Frances Hodgson Burnett
about a kind, poor American boy,
Cedric Errol, who discovers
he is the heir to a British earldom
and must move to England
to live with his crotchety,
wealthy grandfather,
the Earl of Dorincourt,
whose heart he eventually melts
with his innocence and goodness)
and felt like linkedin
to asserting self
as a shy lad missing
out on superficiality
(and Powder Milk Biscuits)
being part of the hoi polloi
only experiencing joy
living vicariously
while digging figuratively deeper
into a hole of introvertedness
courtesy employing
a custom made figurative loy
(an Irish term for a distinctive,
narrow spade with a single footrest,
used for digging in stony ground,
derived from the Irish word for spade,
láí; however, "Loy" can also refer
to a personal name or, in Thai (ลอย),
means "to float,"
as in the festival Loy Krathong)
salivating when as a kid watching
(with Frank Augustine Junior)
both of us both an avid Star Trek fan
imagining myself as Spock
also known as Leonard Nimoy,
especially when hitched as a ploughboy
forced into harsh physical labor
courtesy a harsh taskmaster,
(who treated me like a slave)
unlike both my loving parents
whose untimely death
left myself and two sisters orphaned

but they lucked out
adopted by a rich uncle Sam
and set to live a comfortably numb
(think the life of Riley -
a luxurious or carefree existence)
while their one and only brother
found himself tethered
like an indentured servant
(a person, often an immigrant,
who got coerced, and forced
against my will and ignorance
to sign a labor contract
(an "indenture")
to work for a master
for a fixed term,
usually four to seven years,
dressed as a little girl -
pitch perfect for my
diminutive, and lithesome physique
and long wavy hair
in exchange for passage
to a new country
(like colonial America)
and necessities like food,
clothing, and shelter
analogous to be
mother's little helper
but always wanted to be a lion tamer
on par with Siegfried and Roy,

especially after watching
The Monty Python skit
featuring a man
wanting to be a lion tamer
episode called
"Vocational Guidance Counsellor,"
from their "Flying Circus" series,
where an accountant
(played by Michael Palin)
mistakenly thinks
he wants to tame lions,
but actually wants
a more exciting
career than accountancy,
confusing lions with anteaters,
as found in this Monty Python
Wiki entry and LinkedIn post.