That who summons ire,
Play a song; your melody on lyre.
Anger those of somewhat difference
Bring upon your elitist brilliance.
Notes of challenge you play them victim
But it was who turned deaf? My ears now bitten.
I cared not [your] tune the sound beguiled.
My anger extracted, now compiled.
I leave in silence for it is vexing
This silence is golden, for it's a blessing.
