Violence
Thou filth and ferocity is a sentence of fame;
nowadays glance everywhere th' dead on th' lane;
th' channel is yet but ignorant without shielding an old,
to witness tho' how evident proof can be,
one has to loose nerve and see.
Buy something far greater than a testament,
doth dare who sought to kill by payment;
yet be fair an close the death of swear
and you'll be much more than pair.
Violence is yet but a bum of illness,
shed upon earth with haste and wildness;
doth only be stopped by hazardness!
an sweaves a man to madness.
I grieve for th' moment for th' cause,
for a man so ignorant and close,
living in an urb of mist in doze,
urging for someone to pause;
yet no one ever doth, ever doth sense
how this man was innocent hence.
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