We are brickless, backless turtles ridden by nightmares;
nemesis of ideals, monstrous victims of blind eyes,
walked upon inadvertently by vulnerable feet.
.
Keen-edged conceit is a knife that steals amongst us,
slashing our flimsy shelters with its silver tongue,
so we must run out shivering in the rain.
aplaceforpoetry 
nice edginess