All of these days float away in the stream
Of life in its ceaseless inaudible scream.
Sometimes it's a torrent. These days are adored
By those who despise being hopelessly bored.

They find it abhorrent when time is a trickle.
They'd welcome a problem, a jam or a pickle,
Or even a crisis to step out of stasis.
They smile with great pleasure when most other faces

Are coloured by fear. This fear makes them run.
At night they're relieved that the day has been done.
They'll pussyfoot through a slight hissy-fit till
They smile and repress their immense urge to kill.

But people like Sarah will let it all out.
She never fell victim to feelings of doubt
In choosing her words. She says what she thinks
In straightforward terms, not nudges or winks.

And so she told Gary his number one flaw
Was that he looked down on most things that he saw.
He spent too long scowling and sneering at things.
He saw lowly pawns in the most noble kings.

He's always insulting the poor people who
Are stuck once again on life's great crossword clue.
They've never been sure how to fill in the boxes.
They're very like chickens and not much like foxes.

They'll fill in the crossword in pencil at first.
When faced with success they will still fear the worst.
But he's like a fox. He pounces on chickens.
If he was just fiction, created by Dickens,

He'd own his own factory, with only child labour.
The kids would eat cardboard devoid of all flavour
And sometimes dead pigeons he'd shot from his office.
He'd pay them a pittance and make obscene profits.

The kids would be covered in soot every day.
They'd stand in the rain to wash it away.
When Sarah met Gary one day at the lake,
She said the above and she called him a fake.

He didn't react. She failed to surprise him
When she pointed out that most people despise him,
Even the Christians who love everything
From unpleasant smells to merciless Ming

And strange deformed demons who try to repent,
Who give up all chocolate and arson for lent.
He said he can't care that these losers don't love him.
He then aimed and shot at a duck right above him.

The bullet just narrowly missed the poor duck.
The fear that he felt made him blind to his luck.
He emptied his bowels, without inhibition.
They watched as this little duck's quite large emission

Landed on Gary, with most on his head.
Beneath his new mask his face had gone red.
Sarah thought this was revenge for the things
That he had done wrong. Fate's arrows and slings

Were there in the duck who had just done his best
To bring about justice, and this she expressed
By saying the word 'ha!'. She pointed as well,
And then left in triumph, escaping the smell.