Treading Underneath

Pour he the taste of charlatans 
To malice my impeccable restrain.
My interstice of perception is as the dove at dusk,
But halted in terms of vain. 
 
My pellucid psyche now poisoned
And tainted with formidable deceit. 
To abhor false kin with robust aversion,
For I still remain below their feet.

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