The tiniest of knots entangles deeply near my spine.
“You haven’t got a backbone!” Tell the coward, “here, have mine!”
I’d be stronger surely if I could turn to a worm, crawl in the wood
And yet that life would be no good so I rise to my feet, I lift up my hood.

Isn’t it so curious?
Abundance leaves us all without.
How can we be serious?
Pathetic model that we flout.