They say Hercules was chosen by the gods... I was chosen by circumstance." The Nemean lion wore my face The one I show when I must embrace A fight I hate, a smile I fake Just to hold what's mine, not break Hydra heads were emails—never done Cut one down, another's begun Each marked urgent, each one late Each one tied to someone's fate But they don't see me in these deeds Just outputs, metrics, power feeds They see a titan, not a man They want the myth—I play the hand In the silence of the evening When the armor comes off slow There's a moment I remember Who I was, before I let go Of the person beneath the labor The one they'll never know These are the labors I chose or was given Built by the gods or by my own prison Each one a chain, each one a key To the man they expect me to be The stables stink—but no one sees The filth I clean for company Culture, whispers, broken trust Leaders polish, I sweep the dust The golden hind I chased for years Turned out to be my own lost fears The boar was doubt—I wrestled down But it returns when no one's around Sometimes in dreams I'm running free No labors left, no tasks to complete Just open fields and endless sky The self I was, before goodbye To the person beneath the armor The one they'll never know These are the labors I chose or was given Built by the gods or by my own prison Each one a chain, each one a key To the man they expect me to be The birds I scared from golden trees… Were ambitions I set free. The belt I stole from war and wrath… Was peace I bartered for my path. The mares of Diomedes, wild… Were dreams I buried as a child. Yet the apples that I gathered From the garden of the west Became the sweetest unexpected strength— Life blooming from duress Don't tell me I'm a hero, When you won't mourn the cost. These labors leave me hollow, But you call it purpose, not loss. These are the labors I chose or was given Built by the gods or by my own prison Each one a chain, each one a key To the man they expect me to be But when I finish the final task I'll burn the list, I'll break the mask I'll find the man beneath the deeds And set him free The Nemean lion still wears my face But now I know—we share the same space I am the labors, the labors are me Not prison walls, but what made me free The gods were never more than mirrors. The labors shaped me. But I choose what remains.
