You think because I live inside a shell
That I am shy, perhaps that I am weak,
Mere mollusk and invertebrate, some freak
At worst, perhaps, at best unwell.
Projecting, you think I must live in Hell--
I either won't shut up, or barely speak--
You call me introverted, nerd, or geek--
Because I will not buy the crap you sell.
The cone snail makes a shell so beautiful
That divers risk their lives collecting them--
A stinging death from living snails is sure
From this surprising carnivore--you mull
The risk over to gain this gorgeous gem
And understand that beauty can't be pure.