My name is — move over,
I say — Shun
And I am better;
I breed resentment
On Christmas holidays
My name is — how exquisite,
how rare! — Posh
And I am above you;
I breed desire
At charity fundraisers
My name is — who are those people
anyway? — Snob
I know everything
Breed judgment
And feed on outsiders
My name is — shut the door behind you,
there you go! — Clique
Always unimpressed
I breed like an inbred
Greedy and mean
And my name —
hold on a minute —
my name is Willy,
Willy Restitution,
and I know your deepest fears and insecurities,
so many faults under the surface,
cracks and punctures bubbling with leakage,
I can hear them fester inside you,
so I loathe you — I loathe you and feel sorry for you,
for when tomorrow dawns and for all the days that follow
you’ll be Bloody Shun,
Hysterical Posh,
Phlegmatic Snob,
Bileful Clique,
doing your thing in oblivious delight,
feeling big by making others smaller,
applauding whatever applauds you