a carousel of judging stares, unified by singular spite;
as torn lips drink from the poison de malice,
tribute to ouroboros, a familiar archetype confronted,
"let's peel of the skin, and the secrets buried within."
whisper and fuel the plight, a quilt of deranged insight,
suffocate the victim with a piece of alice,
puncture the flesh and engrave a song inverted;
there be no saviours, just the truth to redeem.