Entomb me with your burying gaze,
your mudslinging ways,
these claws were meant to dig.
But I will be extremely big
about the pyramid of shit
when you had me in it.
Should being brought low make me small?
Honestly? No, not at all.
A scarab beetle cleans and renews
in the dung and death that ensues
all throughout its constructive life.
And me--I thrive on strife.
Because striving is thriving and tills the soil
that preserves my entire mortal coil.
Go on and criticize me,
you nourish and moisturize me.
And I will come up glowing.
So step back or start knowing.
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