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Ron Conway Dec 2019
Darkness falls in black and whittled
starkness, formed in day belittled.
Come the creatures, stalk and stealthy;
sum the riches, bleed the wealthy.

Alleys green with stench and living;
valleys pillaged, unforgiving.
Push the hidden, sick agenda
cushioned in your hacienda.

Where the first-born child's abandoned,
(Spare the second caught red-handed;
graceful in his staunch dissent)
faithful souls tithe ten percent.

Sown into an hourglass,
bones and blood and sin amass.
Who's to say we're so impious -
choose whatever suits your bias.
                                         rc
Trochaic Meter with front and end rhymes

— The End —