Would That I Were a Plague
Would that I were a plague!—
of locusts, bats, disease—
It matters not, but that I might
Wreak havoc and unease.
Would that I were a cloud,
of starlings or of storm—
my only care is seeing that
I make the world forlorn.
Alas, however, I am told
that storms and plagues live short—
and bugs, and murmurations,
all of misery's cohorts.
I think, whatever be my rage,
however fierce and strong,
I'd rather find a human way—
to feel, then move along.
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