ABC's

"A" is for altruism
like a laser in my eye.
The burn makes me
wanna die, yell,
send myself to Hell.
Like claws scraping glass,
I'll taste the candle to its melted wax.
All for you.
You pretend you're trapped
as the rocks about you
ignore the fingers which you tapped.

"B" is for the best,
much more smug than all the rest.
Dug its way to the top,
the stench of worth
left there to rot.
Like its windowpane,
in all its naughty ways,
the mirror left a stain.
All for one more day.
Days, they pass it by,
each a glitter in its eye
quick, bright, loving slander,
fame it caused to die.

"C" is for collision;
the strong approaches the light,
a certain brand of fission
that grows into a plight,
a fight, hear their sores,
like the crack beneath the door.
It omits a secret glow
silent, sift, but there;
There, where they wallow,
where the greens have ceased to grow.
Something buried in the mud
begins to toss and throw.
Kicking, moaning, fatigued,
the beast gave life to the soil.