Q-Who-

We have these intricate, anonymous conspiracies, That no one in public seem to own. So they remain invisible in the mind of the Imaginary, while they cast the first stone. Yet its venom spreads slowly, As it cripples to incapacitate. While truth begs for an antidote, Through a confessional of hate. As identity remains in mystery, the Contributions claimed are leftover to brew. Fermenting slowly, while steeping its fear, Into a recipe that many consume to construe.