Those that aren’t quite up to scratch

Or can’t live up to meet and match

No funny bone or lacking wit

Thinly skinned, no teeth to grit

Too narrow a mind for thought to dwell

With un-kissed lips that rush to tell

No guts with which to deal direct

No spine to hold the twist in check

A tunnel vision dimmed by haze

Blind to a clever turn of phrase

Or appreciation for the arts

A soul of several shades of dark

Where jealousies are caged en bloc

I have the key to pick their lock