Where did you go wrong, dear word,
It must go to show that hope is on the edge 
Of vengeful despair, of the desire to sack cities
And commit treacherous homilies in action
While singing the song of death impassively
Coronated by peace to the kingship of battle
Sanguine saw the wrong movies, read the awful books
And generally took the lower path, greatly traveled,
An unedifying unprincipled stand on a hill surrounded 
By the faithful or heartless or faithless or heartful
Manichean dictionaries constantly define evil
And you've dog-eared the page; what else could 
Drive you to be, to believe, to rampage against not to be
How is now irrelevance, buried by your hands and misdeeds
What you've become, deanthropomorphic potentate 
Power dealer, broker of anger, bog filler for the world
Broken morning's gray light is the altar of your moderate to strong red

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