To the man buying dozens of yogurt cups. 
I have let you in.
These grounds are not secure. 
The floor has been breached. 
The fortress walls scaled. 
We've been boarded. 
But it's no assault.
I felt it coming
and lay out a red carpet. 
Sweeping dust away. 
For your feet shall fall upon no soil. 
I retreat into turmoil.
A message is whispered into every one of my cells. 
"Traitor," I would yell at the mirror.
But today I found a mechanism. 
A peculiar thing.
So I set the door
and vacuumed up the space. 
It all felt silent
and I expanded within it.
To the man buying dozens of yogurt cups.
Enjoy your packaged pus.
I'll be on my way.