Drowning Commoners

Are you one to trifle with hoi polloi? That would be akin to witnessing some infant, immersed in deep blue waters, a cramp in his scrawny calves, every bubble released from his pitiable lungs encapsulating an unreachable hope, cruelly popping as they rise to the surface. I am certain that the frothing at his mouth delights you in some uncanny manner. Images of gazelles and sheep leaping past Planck's demonic gates, unto the claws of tigers, surely tickle your elitist mind? Superiority and sadism imprisons you, for the waters slowly trickle past your feet. Rising tides swallow those who hide, behind a mask of narrowing lust.