They found sin,
an alluring fruit,
in the forest of the collective night
of their callous hearts.
They avariciously ate it,
though digesting its toxicity wasn't possible.
Its seeds were enthusiastically distributed,
among other creatures of the dark.
Planting seeds of sin,
they thought was good fun,
their technique of brainwashing
was perfect, a lethal gleaming weapon.
The fruits it bore were
what none expected,
explosions shaking public places,
an efflorescence of gun culture,
bane of our times and for all the days to come.
The genie refuses to go back to the bottle,
once again, though few still try.
The lovers of sin bragged ,
about biting the bullet,
if it comes to that,
won't run.
Short sighted,
chafed were their words and deeds,
at last when reality came to visit,
each one bit the dust.