Anger's no laughing matter:
The soul's nitroglycerin blows up,
Out of all proportion, a fancied hurt.
Neither should lust be mocked:
The loin-stirring carry on
That's not all Sid and Babs,
Can brighten a dull day,
Or shrivel a selfish heart.
And never mock a moccasin:
Fear its venomed fangs
And silent strike.
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