Listen to the small people,

whispering.

Sibilance softened

syllables tell their secrets,

their tales,

their woes.

Listen to the small people,

talking.

Melancholic mutterings

mnemonically aid their mania,

their numbness,

their terror.

Listen to the small people,

shouting.

Netizens netting

nothing off their neutral zones,

their opiates,

their shields.

Listen to the small people,

howling.

Acerbic animosity

aided by their abilities,

their birthright,

their hindrances.

Listen to the small people

crying.

Watching warily

what Xanadu will offer the wastrels,

the xenoliths,

the children.

- Kylyra Ameringer, April 2010