Nettles

He sank into their calculations and snorted on the stench
 Of their arithmetic
 Looked for the boy who was hanging his head low
 More trophies than ideas
 To follow their pretence
 With a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
 He followed with obedience and fell in the nettles
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 Afterwards those spikey whispers said he brought his own rope
 And skipped the bits they loathed
 Didn't scramble to find a dock leaf to capture back our hope
 To advice his mind had closed
 He lost all of his footholes
 And with a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
 He followed with obedience and fell in the nettles, fell in the nettles, fell in the nettles
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 He was a toothpick!
 And the garlic and the cinder upon the path
 Had failed to blunt or hinder the slow collapse
 Clinging to the doorframe he was dragged
 Off to a reminder of where he had been
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 With a smile in his pocket
 And a scowl on his face
 He had nowhere to flee
 So sat content in the nettles