Integrity has
settled in his brow...

Though my hands
have settled dust...

Five hundred sixteen full moons
navigating the course from straight...

Five hundred
sixteen full moons...

A perfectionist persona
had buried itself...

Wrapped thick,
in putrid stench...

When trusty cauldron begins to bubble
So begins the feud and trouble...

When morning breaks
and day begins...

Silently waiting, just watching
for a mosquito to make a mistake...

I don't want another nasty broom
It has no power, it doesn't go vroom...

To refute
allegations...

A pillar of bees wax
illuminating my world...