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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