Cowards two were they;
one, scared of action
one, too scared to move
each hiding from themselves
behind the other,
circling in an awkward dance
as two wads of wretched detritus
in an unplugged tub

Perhaps too dizzying was this decent
that the truth of things got muddled.
Perhaps this is simply
what cowards tend to do,
as fear is King to cowards
and they will do all that is in their power
to serve His high commands

so down a drainhole they descend
to be deposited downstream, perhaps,
or else skimmed out in a reclamation plant
and cast in to a vat of caustic chemicals
for to make the water clean

And they will revel in this fate for a while
for Fear, their King, commands it
until one or the other finds a new master
or they are both bleached to death
inside of a sewage treatment tank

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