Tea Time - 2013/10/04

Here in grand old asylum,
The patients have risen to rule.
Today they wield great power,
Over their masters who were so cruel.

Wails fill the multiplying rebel halls,
Pain is etched in every uttered word.
For today is the day the most insane,
Rises to lead the ever confused herd.

Some say it was a battle of wits,
I steadfastly claim that it was not.
For the smartest among them,
Was immediately dismembered and shot.

They cackle while they mumble,
Ruling with a doctrine of irrationality.
I may be dead and quite irrelevant,
Yet even I look forward to some finality.

Soon they will gather in the atrium,
Knives at the throats of their soul mates.
And without any concern at all,
They will murder their fellow reprobates.

What price shall the world pay,
To watch this grotesque sideshow play out?
Will the intellectual elite,
Ever be able to explain what this was about?

Some shall ban it in hopes of hiding,
While others will embrace the discussion.
But for all others if is guaranteed,
They will retreat into their normal concussion.

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