Regrets the alarm; looks at his sleeping wife;
wonders if she dreams of him at all;
worries in the shower that his dick is small;
at breakfast nicks his thumb with a kitchen knife.
Pastes on a smile; says, “I love my life,”
as he pulls on his Oxfords in the entry hall,
though some days he thinks he’d rather burn it all
to the ground, make anarchy and civil strife,
smoke weed again, or call the pretty boy
he’d briefly loved in college. He will not.
Luck built five bedrooms and three cars.
Blessed by fortune, unburdened by weighty joy,
easy commute, two average little snots.
Skips dinner, makes excuse, and hits the bars.
Jacob Bacharach 
Ooooh dear….
nice. it’s a combo of fortune and hard work though innit? for many middlers? and they do work hard, not as hard as a farmer or plumber, but the plumber is not so burdened with the notion that what they are really doing is helping someone else keep tabs on where their money is going. Ultimately that’s what the army of bureaucrats, lawyers, administrators, etc., who comprise “the middle class,” do, ain’t it? make sure every cent of some else’s money is accounted for? Praise yourself for your hard work, the rectitude of filling out accurately time sheets & expense reports, deny the element of fortune, accidents of birth, etc., that comprise a good portion of every individual life, and so why not blame the lazy welfare queens for not getting a job, which everyone can get by living a life certified by MS Excel, as exemplified by the middlers themselves? and so the middle class goes thru life with a shit load of resentment, paying their student loan debt & uncovered medical expenses, all the while trying to convince themselves via refined consumer choices that they represent some very lofty pinnacle of human excellence, snorting insider sweet and low being laid out in lines for them by the likes of Gwyn fucking Ifel.
Well, I’d rather worry that my dick is small while owning a house and a car, than as currently whilst having no car and no bedroom of my own at all.