The Soft Hands of Stephen Miller

From a long line of translucent lizards comes our boy Stephen

With an inferiority complex that’s been passed down generations

His weakness is resilient and with teeth

He was the best in his class

Worked so hard to layer over

Worthlessness

Stiff pale shell

smugly changes

the subject from

His impotence

Stephen, tell me 'bout your great-grandmother

So how?

How?

How?

How?

How?

Indulging fear professionally

We're all railing against oblivion, Steve

You don't have to be so vile and insufferable about it

You don't have to be such a delicate guy

But you don’t know how

How

How

How

You don’t know how.