The Score Year Traitor
Feeding me some ludicrous bait
Of incident out on staff ‘do’
Red-headed witch sealed my fate
By simple act of rifling through
My private papers to discover
If I’d ribbed her like another.
You see, I’d written poem for stress
So that I could work with scum:
To endure their endless cess
That imbued rage be overcome.
But she, whom I had trained from scratch,
Thought I’d at her discomfort snatch.
Not one deemed it worth their while
To tell me of this treachery:
Of misplaced distrust and guile
Which hurt me, though accidentally.
The Morlock found her reading it…
Why do I place my faith in unpleasant people?
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