It doesn’t matter
If big brother exists.
Maybe so,
But it would be easier.
Control is an simpler ailment
To treat than hysteria.
Hysteria’s roots grow deep
Into the mind’s fertile soil,
And its dark blossom lacks a face
To hate for evil's sake.
And when the evening rain
Touches the forest grass,
Hysteria’s blossom comes to bloom
And spreads its sickly-sweet seeds.
If big brother exists.
Maybe so,
But it would be easier.
Control is an simpler ailment
To treat than hysteria.
Hysteria’s roots grow deep
Into the mind’s fertile soil,
And its dark blossom lacks a face
To hate for evil's sake.
And when the evening rain
Touches the forest grass,
Hysteria’s blossom comes to bloom
And spreads its sickly-sweet seeds.
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