Poem: Seasons of Destruction, Pt. IV

In our times of quiet, we cannot deny it—
The seeds sleep deep in our Earth
They’re waiting to riot, biding this quiet,
Because those little seeds will burn

Tell me, please, what is this disease
That defies the logic we might employ
To stop the burn and freeze of this unease
That screams we must destroy

I pray that maybe, someday,
We stop courting our own destruction;
But over the years, it becomes more clear:
We cannot without instruction

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

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