They approach hungrily like sharks to helpless minnows.
The
smiles on their smug faces radiate anticipation
I
sheepishly look downward, the logo emblazoned on my chest
A
mess of lines more like a spider’s web than words
“Faggot”
they say.
“Where’d
you get that ugly rag?”
My reserve
of defense bankrupt and empty, cobwebs forming, rot impending
“I
bought it” I utter, aggression absent and elsewhere
Barely
a pause before the can of sugary liquid renders the logo a sticky, putrid mess
Forced
laughter thrown on top, obscuring
Soon,
Wolves in the Throne Room are buried like the famished dogs they are
Thanks for reading! New poems will be posted every Sunday or Monday.
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