When I’m too much myself you see
I shrink into garrulity,
Producing pitifully pompous slop
Sandwiched in a frilly flop.
In this foul swill of paltry tricks
I try to hide my faults and sicks.
I know the only way to sate
My mind’s indenture to berate
Is slap myself, step up to plate,
And utter truer words to hate.