Praxis

Kill him, or you'll be subjected
To the unchallenged whims anchored
In depictions of his semblance of balance;
Pride of the team, collective horde
Of serotonin and tools of adjustment;
For some reason, they aren't compelled
To die for unanswered questions, content
With pastime, with assumed roles cycling
Toward recycled lessons of good living;
For some reason, they do not understand
Their unforgivable role in poison nurture
And in neglected rearing; now it's time
To make mistakes of extremist culture;
Unheedful extents of applied emotion.