They watch silently listening for cracks.
They judge with the conviction of the knowing and know naught.
They will condemn you to the gallows after taking what they please,
then lament you are less than radiant.
You strive to uphold them, keep them from regrets -
They are amused and form skins of discontent.
They wear proud warts of scorn like amulets.
They love to lock you in their contentious horns
then pretend you’ve been sufficiently forewarned.
You offer them your years to prevent their squalid tears -
They smear your heart into your unsuspecting face
and gorge on the blood you leave pooling on the floor.