Tiptoeing in the shadows,
hiding behind a crusted keyboard
spewing raw threats in freak speak
dug up from the shallow realm
of which they are formed

Beneath a pink umbrella
where cowards lounge
Shivering like babes in snow banks,
tossing stones, targeting hearts
inflicting pain…expecting a laugh

Stand up, be a man (if you can)
Allow me my aim
Dance about if you like in your tutu,
pirouette in your disgust,
my hand is steady

Unlike yours...moving up and down
staring at a screen, pretending
someone actually gives a crap
about something like you…

I’ll find this circus
where tents are pitched,
cotton candy stains the sawdust
and you climb out of that tiny car
with a fake smile painted on your face

And when you feel it you will know
this ain’t confetti,
as you fall in your own stench, and the audience…
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages…
applaud!