Individuals Menaced me but true malice Arises from groups
They beg for a dropOf your water, and you giveThem nothing at all. You do not sufferAlone; you drink from your ownCup, and you are
Still do I writhe and Wriggle on your hook, begging For merciful death.
Dead-eyed clown mouths what My chickenshit goodness will Never say aloud
If you don’t like what I say, I’ll learn better with A good hard shaking.
Still waters conceal Slanders, accusations, the Bodies of the dead