The poet thinks that he is a crazy horse, a driven creature. For most people in the third world, including the terrified, anxious Bangladesh, who are oppressed and persecuted in many ways, the king is like a broken drinking glass. The new king comes with the elegance of apparent dignity. No one dreams or even has time to think about the have-nots. Although the practice of slavery has apparently been deserted, he believes that slavery still exists in different forms, in different dimensions, in different structures throughout the world. The country and society are plagued by the tyranny of the petty bourgeoisie and the greedy middlemen, the enemies of the house, just as the developed world's crazy lords with poisonous teeth are still holding an invisible whip in their hand in oppressing the people of third-world countries. He claims to be the descendant of the slave, the representative of the new slaves. And let the poem "Slave," that came from all his grief and his inner bloodshed, be evolved the consciousness of all. The poet wishes that one day suddenly the content of the poem will be a protester in the intense longing for freedom from the chains. This is his humble prayer to the Lord.