Logophobia

Culminating into masses
A thousand crowded sickly classes,
All for one until one falls,
Always then do leaders crawl

Feed righteous fear and insurrection
Tartly brushed by sweet affection,
Taste the love inside their hate,
It satisfies but does not sate,
Its moans and cries do not abate,
Not by choice, for it was fate.

Read inside the empty fear,
Always putrid are my tears

Cry alone or with your love,
You're still crying.