Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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I can't imagine being weak and useless enough to break a bone. People who break bones are the scum of the earth. If I was a doctor I wouldn't bother putting a cast on a broken bone, instead I would just kill the patient. How can someone who breaks a bone function in society, pathetic. A couple days ago a 4th grader asked me to sign his cast, I spat on him and pushed him to the ground. I can't be bothered with non milk drinkers. A cast is the mark of a b-word and a dysfunctional member of society
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