Bully of the heart

the fuss
the mess
the hinge rusted
the pest

Gutters run along city roads
the grime peels off in loads
in the heavy rain bluster
diluting the crust

The bully recieves the punishment back
Not knowing it was for his own acts
what a fuss in fact
a mess by axe

in those circles like bowl fish
where the most selfish
are firstly rewarded
then gently slaughtered

The rusted hinge
the pest
A bully who had not reversed roles in his mind
An ardent humble victim now in the bind

Selfish tribes form
to feed themselves and fart scorn
lashing out fully fed with elation
Then bearing it under starvation

Messy status quo chaos official rise
Base of civilization compromised
fussy willful ignorance slopped as soup
a vacancy for you in a bully group

sooner or later
group splits as fate
falling into the gutter
getting washed out

like the last layer of grime
Initially rewaded now demoted
and found floating in the slime
resting forever in dry moats