It's an airborn disease
an infection of no remorse
relying on those experiences
that came in disguise
that follow you
from the way you came
drifting from the west
new born spiders and dandelion seeds
all in the wind
beckoning to the burnt
Hatred was a struggle
you undoubtably mention
oozing pioson from the pores
sniffing for the fear
that emanates from the depths
but the hate whipped you to shape
the caution sign glows
Termites in the bones of the strong
mentoring the weak to breathe in the air
what a fresh breathe
insects and all
gas masks for all
dead birds and silly string
Can't we all get along?
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