Patch
Eye for a patch, limb by scratch,
beg for the hungry,
give to charity you lying thieves.
Ranking for unskilled labor,
hiding behind March of Dimes outfits,
teaming up for picnic raffles.
Cut your scab right off each bloody wrist,
darkness surrounds each side of thy face,
populous for mere reach.
Shrinking beside the very thought of disdain,
let us see who crosses the finish line for real first,
with a baton stuck inside the hand.
Team support competitive race,
with gleam for lies and deceit,
Edgar Allen Poe and Emily Dickinson gave good face.
Evil more corrupt than Vietnam, let us stop war that has just begun,
contest that are fixed by the man downstairs,
here my word, light is closer to dark than you think.