Things provoke me at times:
To kill all the good people,
To set all the woods on fire,
To hunt down all the birds,
To stamp on all the petals,
To poison all the waters,
To butcher, torture, and murder
All that's good on earth.
And then be alone to cry
Over a great terrible loss;
Lying before my bewailing soul.
And be so alone, so grieved
Mourning till the dawn of Doomsday
On this lonely planet
Amid the herd of hogs;
Amid the pack of wolves.
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