M Y P E R C E P T I O N

You say it in tones of sadistic sarcasm
It is your time to contimplate,
A child lost in Chile.
You attempt to eradicate
My individualism,
With deepest regreats, of course.
I stand tall amidst the crowd,
My ear cocked to the wind
To catch you falsifying.
An act shown simple,
Only by a fiend, A sociopath.
Oh how upon these great pages,
You write with feverous devotion.
Would not anyone whose handiwork
Is World History?