Poison Tradition

devious, demon-thing creeping beneath
the walls of wisdom, past the sentries of caution
dodging the death-blow it performs contortions
careful then
‘ware giving it help
by company carelessly chosen the whelp
swerves and weaves and whispers in your ear, about-
fears and tears and pains yet to come
then serves up fresh suffering for its own food and fun.

Nourished on nonchalance
woken by weakness, this, weakness maker
shatters stalwart intention
ever the willbreaker, is-
known to many by its darkly dominant position,
the persecuting poison, practically tradition
known to me and many, as awful addiction.


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