Evil's account
--Labor Day's reflection

Like fearless moths, throng into a campfire,
in hopes of, escaping deep darkness
Like festive troutlings, group around a sweet lure,
yearning for a big bite to ease chronic hunger

Are they all not bright enough,
to see the hidden danger of the sucker
Are they all too naive,
to even sense the vice of the bigcity?
They don't care
They couldn't afford to care,
to let a rare chance slide away

They may not be all well and beautiful, the next morning
They may wither away quick and quietly, the next afternoon
In their short journey however,
they were writing history, of the swollen
with burning blood, as stark as their desires

This is the process for well being
This is the avenue to modernization
a poet calmly pointed out
Evil, nevertheless
is what we have to take into account