by Nick Gisburne
He thought himself irrational at first
The boy who poured his vengeance on us all
A damaging and devastating thirst
To flood the wicked cities and their sprawl
But soon he bridged the evil and the good
For every child makes mischief if he can
Ignoring all dissent, he understood
The coiling, twisted serpent that is man
The youngster, bored of playing with his toys
Discovered a grotesque but thrilling game
And with a storm, a holocaust of noise
Destroyed the world, the living, without shame
A single vessel, spared to stay afloat
His only act of amnesty of note
