I thought of them,
one by one

and wicked turned inside-out;
sunrise transforming
into a color I didn’t recognize.

The troubled, disturbed,
pain ridden humanity

labeled most likely to…
by the age of fifteen
by some notebook toting,
mouse in a cage expert
on statistics of specimens
and their environment.

So, go ahead,
pen a sonnet
for everyone who has a past.

Give them an excuse to detonate
and gain two minutes of fame
on the ten o’clock news
never stopping to consider

when the sun sets purple
and deep clandestine blue,
the simple fact

evil doesn’t always grow
from a seed.



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