Every
trinket here
Is randomly
generated chance
Except this
line
But not this
one
It’s a process
of firm feet
Connected to
the rest, staring down
An oncoming
vehicle
Ready to
make mincemeat
Rationality
for the masses
Busy lynching
their counterparts
Burning
their witches
Our picture
imperfect beforehand
Is
categorized for ease
So we can
reflect as simply
As opening a
manila folder
With
stoutness, so resolute
And future
events
Are met with
reactive dreams
Of a
proactive mindset
And to whomever
reads this
I have this
to say to
You’re the
kindred soul
That may or
may not
Explode
under pressure
It depends
upon minute variables
Swirling
around in pure chaos
As for me, I’m
the cat in the box
Well acquainted
with the poison
But refusing
to die
In
conclusion, what this means
Is a level
head in the face of
Terrifying
truth, mere inches away
A perfect
science conducted
As the reaction
burns a hole
Right
through you
And the
atoms smash together
With blatant
disregard for
The
potential energy released
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