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UPON THE MOLEHILL
Perching upon the sound of hope,
Feet gone off to find the cause,
In a desert of madness,
Sounds of doctrine ring
The dos and don’ts of the last century.
While he waits his perjury trial,
He remembers the nakedness
Of truth to eyes of little children
Born of irate adults,
Awakening to an innate hatred,
Wondering if life is meant to be.