Patrick

You little ant
You vile bug
You imbecilic crawling slug

You craven man
You stupid bitch
I’d rather hear the words with which

You call me out
You put me down
You voice yourself, inane but proud

I’d rather that
You rant and scream
Than that you hide from little me

But you cannot
Or won’t, at least
Forthrightly come out as a beast

Instead you sulk
Inside your hole
A spineless, feckless, witless mole

I’ll dig you out
From in your pit
Your cowardice I’ll not permit

I’ll spit my words
Right in your face
I hope my laughter burns like mace

For laughter’s what
You’ll get from me
Not sorrow and not enmity

You don’t enrage
You just amuse
Pathetic, lonely, short, and used