Nationalists (a poem)

Nationalists

The blind patriot is now a parody,

A joke that lives,

Walks and breathes,

Among us,

Pestering us.

Yet was never one of us,

Was never a human,

A person,

But always a monster.

Lingering and trolling about,

So in a manner that the even the vulgar blush.

What poison they are to our world,

Our circle,

Our community.

That which could be peaceful,

They make unpleasant,

And forlorn

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