STAMPEDE
Beneath the moon’s pale, a requited glow,
A hyperbolic crowd begins to grow.
The sphere is aired with fear and haste,
A storm of bodies, my qualms displaced.
A million cry, a sudden shove,
To venerate order, stripped of love.
Feet like thunder, hearts like drums,
Chaos shouts, and silence comes.
The pressing of souls, the crush of skin,
A pastiche, none had sought...
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