what you fear; what
you fear more
but the age of death
is all you get
the paranoid king and his
inbred children and they’re good for a laugh,
sure,
but why waste your time with pity?
we all choose our own path to joy
we ignore the swarms of flies,
the stench of corpses
each city is built to be destroyed,
is destroyed to be rebuilt,
is rebuilt only to be destroyed again,
and at what point do you walk away?
how many years do you waste
waiting for the punchline?
and it’s never as funny as you’d hoped
once it’s been spelled out in the
blood of everyone you’ve
ever loved
--John Sweet
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