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Comments about Steve Nayar
Freedom Of The Press
Words scratch their taloned certainty through human pulp
Vanity made sharp, honed, maliciously manicured.
These are the weapons of mass destruction
Here lies the cause of every scar…
Spark the thought,
Ignited hands encircle literary pyre,
Quills ironically record the deed,
Minds flashing, eyes enlightening
Tongues wagging, teeth chewing
The last glowing embers of verbal feast,
As we play victim, and they play beast.
Freedom of the press,
To distort, delet and generalise,
And thus, us oppress.