The Sty that formed along my path
I carried your children, bearing 
Connubial wrath
Dodging draws and duels
You lost, dirty Fool
Take a bath in that
Self-made, self-important
Station
Form a migration
Through stench of self
Stop honking
At me
At him
At them
You are the fat trimmed
From a life that has skimmed
The pool where you bathed
And floated
Self-made.