A Shiv Poem

On the outside the shiv concept may seem moot but I must disagree.
Sometimes in the home you ought to have one see.
Sometimes you need to stand up straight fo yo self.
Sometimes you need to drop the belligerent like a giant drops an elf.
I've fashioned shivs out of branches and forks.
I've fashioned them using games pieces carried by dorks.
I've used a shiv handle made out of a hundred sided dice.
I've made shivs out of dried up mice.
I've held a shiv aloft while I double dutched.
I've balanced one behind my ear while I ate too much.
The shiv is so sharp and deadly.
"oh shiv, oh shiv, keep away from my belly"
I once give my kid a shiv as a toy
but then my dearest told me shivs can be dangerous - specially for a boy.
Shiv you help me keep away the madness.
Shiv you can lead to so much sadness.

Don't Listen to me because...

I can't get my act together enough to get my kids to flush the toilet.

We're not hardcore environmentalists at our house which might explain the flushlessness.
We're not into "earthy" odors that promote digestion or deep sleep or meditative states.
We're not even conservators, instead using what seems like multiple rolls per visit.
We don't manufacture our own aggressive waste ingesting microbes in a makeshift basement laboratory/kitchen so we don't have to flush and thus save on the water bill.

We water the grass for Pete's sake.

What is wrong with me? With us? With them?