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Purveyors of Disruption
The winds of chaos run amok
To cause my soul to stress
As those about the Evening News
Delight at my distress.
These purveyors of disruption
Rot the world from within.
They fornicate their tired rubbish...
Finding glee in every sin.
We're they shunned by friends and family?
Did their psyche take a hit?
We're they picked last for indoor soccer?
Did their puppy up and quit?
I'm at a loss for explanation
Why they cheer the coming storm...
Twisting now the flesh of sainted truth
To keep their masters warm.
Do I dare to dream a simple dream
Knowing a little love is all they need.
But until they change... such heinous ways...
They'll get no love from me.
The End
Copyright ©
David Mchattie
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