I have hidden four small friends,
Thin and sly, in a jagged, black box.
Four comrades, full of agony they
Beseech me to bear.
They wink at me with a coy giggle,
Such a deceitful shriek,
My four forgiving allies.

They lay patiently in their
Dark encasing, covered with static, white age.
Their aspersion is a seeping cut, their teeth
A flashing constant. They threaten me
Because they need me,
Cherish me,
My four sinful companions.

We veil the same secrets,
Bonded by seclusion and circumstance.
“We know,” they whisper, and they know no better,
“We know what you stand to lose.”
Their hisses float from their somber cell,
Blackmailing between cackling hysterics,
But we all know.
We’ve heard this tragedy before.
We know exactly how it ends.