A closeup selective focus shot of a brown rat on the concrete ground

One of a series of short daily poems on life (and in this case death) in a UK that’s trying to deal with a pandemic, an idiotic act of self-harm in Brexit and having a bunch of ideological loons at the helm, seemingly making stuff up as they go along. This particular ditty is all about the strange emotional connection we can sometimes feel to those who are a danger to us all.

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