“What’s that sound,” they scream. I pound
My fist into, and through, the crown
Of their head, it sheds. When it rains, it pours,
The trick to cooperation is using force.
Of course, my source is my surroundings,
Which is how I dine in the dark profoundly,
Perchance, by chance, I laugh too loudly,
But I invite my blight to increase the bounty.
For I need meat, beef makes me complete,
A villain is only filling the void of a bleak
Necessity, necessarily created unique,
Twisted terribly to be made obsolete.