The vicar scuttled toward me, frightened and alone,
I stood still, watching it fight against the drones
Of its former flock, turned into the beasts
That we so often see and many times disown,
Petrified, he collapsed, frozen on my altar
Littered with sleek silver and yellowed relics
That provided the cruel and the wise
To strike down.
So I struck,
Caught in my own trance of disgust and compulsion,
Wondering if my sudden act of defiance spilled
A microscopic soul hiding from my revulsion.
Written by Abhinav Tiku
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