Funny, how the thing you love turns sour
When its back is broken and the rug pulled
Clear, exposing hard surfaces to deal with

The staircase leads to the decision maker or
The messenger; doling out the ‘nothing personal’
You see, we’re expendable, wrecked through loyalty

It didn’t work despite extreme effort; when they
Look at us anger wells up spitting, encircling
Their heads

A glimmer of something like understanding
Scrapes their tongues, doesn’t quite meet the
Mark or hit the spot and sticks in their mouths

We knew before they did

See through

Substance missing

Finished