We are strange people
The plague only strengthened us
Our immune system hums
Percolates below the surface
Modest to a fault
We wear a wealth of clothes
Having come from the north
Our bodies gleaming in their pods
All bearing the same name
Inbred to a droopy countenance
Mismatched eyes
Inward seeing but adept
At bearing arms
The resilience of ants
We swarmed over the hills
As the ungulates fled
With the appropriate fear
And threw themselves from the cliffs
Into the boiling waters
Our laws are variable
Improvise as we see fit
Our poets rule
Our women conquer
And bind us to the moss
That covers our flesh
As the fungus that blooms in moonlight
Memorizes our sagas
We compose our bestiaries
With a vicious humor
That reverberates in the catacombs
Of our mealy chests
We have not made the mistake
Of thinking knowledge evil
Allow those of our ilk that deviate
Their place
Spleen and bile do the rest
Our blood unclogs
Pushes down any radical
Or anarchy without a god
We move with the seasons
Our boots are the best