Sons and daughters and all enlist
Albeit only half-voluntarily or less than half
In the various categories
Of attitude and affiliation

Something compels in some of them
A need to count
Others amass collections of candy and playthings
Still others ceaselessly drum their fingers

Many indulge a wish to control
The origin of such desire obscure
Thereby requiring responses
From those now designated as opposition

And since all regard the population
As resembling themselves
Assuming that what is easy for one must be easy for all
Few perceive the splendid variation of difficulty

Few perceive the abject suffering
Even in themselves
Luxuriating veritably bathing
In the pornography of cruelty

And history presents yet another iteration
Of hollowness of horror of faceless sojourners
Of a void never to be filled
By muffin or cucumber sandwich

And yet another occasion for sorrow
The suffering of those who endorse suffering
Sons daughters and all
The pitious multitude in the great evacuation

All march one way
And though the tread is inequitably distributed
Among sons and daughters and all
The monarchs of wickedness are suffering too