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Agent(s of) Orange

History repeats itself - it was nineteen seventy three
In the jungles of Vietnam that Agent Orange wrecked trees.
Now the agents of orange once more overshadow green
In one of the biggest upsets the Union has ever seen.

Entire countries were written off maps,
Prompting complaints their states would collapse.
Poor fools - the map was to go into enemy hands
And only absence would guarantee the safety of their lands.

Unsatisfied with shooting themselves in the foot,
Those righteous men in their crucified suits
Invited the devil himself to write
The rules by which he would be allowed to fight.

And if that irony were not enough,
The orange decided to get dirty and rough -
They built a hall leading to an arena on the right,
A repetition of where gladiators would fight.

Life became fiction as threats were thrown,
Discord and rivalry in sour ties were sown.
Ultimately the table of discussion proved to be too long
For a handshake in the middle and an admittance of wrong.

Alas! The one carpenter who could bring them all around
And build for them a solid and firm middle ground,
Was off, having elected to complete other chores,
Busy fighting at home to mend unsettled scores.

So, can you see how it goes in this world?
A blessing is seen as a curse unfurled.
The devil is invited to heaven's lawn.
Decency is ignored, and swords are drawn.

Laws are lies; it is the halls that win,
And sometimes shared ground is just too thin.
But anyway, where does this leave you and me?
To dine on the poison now allowed to flow free.

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