Poem: Back-Stabbers

Like a sniper's gun,
Their tongues wag in wait to run
Rapt attention paid they to your vocal spree
In order for them to add, to twist, and bruise your heel;

Like a sniper's gun,
Their tongues lash- your pain their fun
Your every move keep they in check
The purpose of which is to crack and break your neck;

Like a sniper's gun,
Their eyeballs rummage- with flashes of the scorching sun
Scanning through your pouch
In search for incriminating louche;

Like a sniper's gun,
Their eyeballs roll with the modus of a sitting nun
Temperatures begin to rise like a carousal
This, no doubt is the bedrock of their usual;

Like a sniper's gun,
Their eardrums itch and cook up bewildering stunt
Before them you are priceless jewel
Your praises sing they like clanging timbrel;

Like a sniper's gun,
Their eardrums stick out in readiness for a pun
To suffer in drowing pain is their pleasure
Your tears they crave without measure;

Who will watch our backs?
Back-stabbers now with us dwell in packs!

By: Akhimien Monday