A month or more has once again passed by,
And in that time, they have not ceased to cry,
They whom the Stupid God’s cult would deny
All grace, all mercy, kindness, aid, and weal.
The wounds the Stupid God inflicts will heal
But slowly if at all, and no appeal
Would seem to set that sentencing aside
For which the cult had all too often cried–
Not even when its own please are denied
As they not seldom are. They suffer, too,
The members of that cult, but do not rue
That they so suffer if their others do;
In others’ pain does that foul cult delight
So much that they care nothing for their plight.

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