Oh, how I loathe thee-
thou awful globe-ed purpose.
Your scope leaves no sway,
for me to convey
just all I might mean-
through my sadly scribbled scrawl.
To seek my vengeance
par my pensions,
would be my delusion,
my dream, my desire.
With savvy handys and a clear head,
I'd abort all until all could be dead.
Then in classes comparatively,
we'd be without procedure.
For to round things out,
I'd have made it my bout
to rid the world of the two-circled evil.
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