Elegy: Poison Curry

A little scoop,
Of this afternoon,
And this here tune,
Goes off in June,

Officious puppets,
Walk on with life,
No more questions,
Feeling satisfied.

It's what we are,
And we can't see,
This poison curry,
Began to breach.

It's who you are,
A powerless niche,
Strings of resistance,
Out of reach.