'Cowed'

'Stylish. A bit eccentric. But, uh... What is it with the thigh high boots? And the huge umbrella? There is not a storm. Or an approaching rain. You're dressed as if prepared, For a hurricane. Are you forecasting? Or wishing for a blizzard, To visit you personally? ' I don't know about you. But I've had enough, Of the onslaught of accusations... Dropping from told lies all over the place. And the poop on the streets it leaves, Is so thick a herd of bulls or buffalo... Can graze on the spreading of nonsense left. Flowiing with a stench making me sick of it. 'Why now brown cow? No one else has complained. About their 'udders' to drag by others, Through the mud without one word to utter. And that's been them doing it for decades of B.S. Unless... You have found being disgusted with yourself, Unbearable. Remember... Like the rest you allowed yourself to be 'cowed'' Your sarcasms wont cause me spasms. Nor will your comments with the scent of stench, Intimidate me at all. I am pro-active and cautious. To do to keep moving. Before I become nauseous to prevent your consent, Of it done. 'Hey. Who cares? Mooooove. Moo-moo-moo-moo-mooooove.'