Long walks with my temper take me down a dead end street in contemplation;
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where do we start at the end?
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Before i could collect myself,
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I'm vacuumed n by a figure's armspread with fiery gasps of iron air,
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cornered in my circle of friends.
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Won't he speak to you?
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Emptied on the floor were the shells of my defenses,
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placing his own bullets of condescendence.
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Those people shafted me of my social weaponry.
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|
-----------------
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Bottom Feeder
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| Cave-In |
