Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney
rozk

This is a little timely

A STATESMAN

One stinging insect soon becomes a swarm.
Their stings burst fester soon more blackfly hatch.
Bat them or net them. Everyone you catch
begets another which will wish you harm.
Tied down the little people pluck your hair
strand at a time to knot you down some more.
Each rope will scratch you deep and cut you sore
Your skin peels off until there's nothing there
but raw and bleeding flesh and showing bone.
Your friends desert they cannot stand the smell
walking away they say they wish you well
And this is rumour. Friendless and alone.
Who were so great. You're left to roll in dung
long left the sin you shat when you were young.
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