Lay bare to all your twisted mind,
And show them the colours
Of the fabric beneath which you hide.
Let them glean what they may
From the dark depths of a devastating snare.
O, let them lust!
'Tis what they do best.
They gnaw, they tear,
They open chasms of despair
Into those who seek solace
In prayer.
They act as but one and the same.
Some pounce
Others leer from a distance.
But their minds! Alas,
They are wry, rotten
And wretched.
All the while in their miserable lives
Seeking power or lusty wealth,
Like a blood-hound sniffing and scowling,
Intent on his prey.
That is society,
And me an individual.
But on the whole...
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