By: Gus Victoria
Merchants of madness,
Purveyors of untruth
Gleaned from tragedy,
Moving the mass,
Uneducated and unprotected
From hearts compassionate,
They abandon reason
As they feel the pain
Of death imposed
And future deposed.
With a sword in hand,
Pen in another.
And coin collected,
These merchants sell
Freshly bought grief.
I move only this ink
And collect no coin.
I sit as others stand.
I ponder as others move.
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