Snowdened Poem by Douglas Scotney

No-one knows out of what it had come
but it allowed only bad people to rule it.

Good ones fought off depression,
or succumbed, or turned dirty,
or set up in loveless marriages
of the no-questions-asked,
do-what-you-are-told variety,
as good as bad, to my eyes,
for their cowardly compromise.

One of the latter,
I, Ed Snowden, snowdened, took a stance:
removed bad people, well, some,
to see if that could help us,
first, to find out of what it had come,
then to alter its bad allowance.