The tight one

He remains the tight one, hasty and twisted he hides fear.
I wonder if it´s not just his baldness...
Is he about to shake his outraged fist in the air?
I can tell he´s badfolk, by his grin and his flat smile.
I can tell he´s sickly, even the way he talks is vile.
As he approaches reeking disappointment from every oriface.
What is his problem, when everyday he has a look of distaste.
He remains the tight one but one day i´ll bet he breaks,
not under my subtle thumb, but on the millionth frown he will inevitably make.