Those suspicious glances
and quick waves of a hand
try killing like lances
I hope they'll disband.

Why do they envy me?
What have I done to them?
They surely loathe my victory.
Their envy rising from the stem.

I wish I'd been lonely.
Immaculately blissful on my own.
Tranquility I demand only
And their claws away from my home.

Tony, August'95

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