No Offense (A Poem)

No offence, we like the fence

Members of both points of

View not ever black and white

Above the dirty rascals

Sitting tall on walls of grey

Beloved Kings of Castles pray

A digit will not point their way

Back down beneath the Muffets

Missed through glasses tinTED

Talks aloud in discrete spectrums

Seeing spiders go directions

Low latent rants and finger points

Apparent they are hard for some

Are kneaded since that sketchpad day

When pen and paper rolling pins

Grenades pull out or flatten dough

A megaphone and it begins

For breaking bread or breaking shins

Or showing, telling where to go

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