Fine, I will write a poem
about tragedy in the world.
Because people of the world
have demanded it so.

With their bloodthirsty,
triggered tensions and neurotic
sensibilities, they thrive
on causing pain to those
weaker, different,
or both.

Inherently venomous,
apparently against us;
twitching and breathing
like demons dangling bent keys
behind doors.

And it’s these types of
people whose only will
is suffering. Their lives—roots
and branches— are
misshapen, rotted out, and

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