I writhed, and I huffed, and I puffed, that dark night,
in fury, flat-out,
because of the blackout.
as I nursed my unspeakable rage,
I heard a song,
the song of no wrong;
laughter song,
the song of glee;
the song of guffawing cockroaches,
insects of the night,
getting set and primed, to show naughty might.
the blackout my poison,
the blackout their meat.
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