Sitting there quiet

Away from the Queen Bee

Not wanting to be the first apple to fall from the tree

Not wanting to be the sharpest thorn

Or the ripest acorn

over which the squirrels brawl

To take in to their hibernating spot

To keep them filled over the winter lash

Just to be Discarded

as an empty shell when spring has past

But to fend off the pack of wolves

Defending with your mind game tools

Heading the other way from your School

You the solitary shark

Destroying and spitting out the fool.