The Devil
In an indeterminate equation,
He is the x that forever will be
A source of half-truths, blame, accusation,
A herald of doubt and conspiracy.
His is the envy of emerald green,
The need to acquire material things,
The shadowy veil, obscuring obscene
Grand puppet masters who pull on heart-strings,
And rally with cries to a prideful cause,
Backed by theories malicious and vague;
Opponents besmirched to boundless applause;
The more so in times of turmoil and plague,
Denying which, tyrants fall on the meek,
And who but a saint would offer their cheek?
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