Your smugness is repugnant and your grin suggests you eat shit
With that stink about your person that unsettles nearby stomachs
You’re a misfit who can dish it, but fold like paper under pressure
And your tendency to duck hard hitting facts reflects your measure
I’d never claim you’re evil since in every sense you’re lukewarm
And the grubs that writhe in dirt best approximate your true form
You’re a wettened weasel, Dante’s easel, piteous sinner in the pit
And your voice grates like nails on chalkboards slicked with curdled spit
If this seems crass or harsh it’s just to circumvent confusions
As I’ve tried and failed before to drag you down from your delusions
I’m done you piteous pigeon, it bluntly hurts to see you like this
You may avoid confrontation, but I won’t myself be spineless