There was more
But enough was written,
There was pain
On the point of being bitten,
Who would even listen?
Only the readers of books,
In a crowd of unbelievers
No one takes any looks.

There were details
In fantasy or dreams,
Wild, crazy noises
And frightening screams,
But not one of them cares
To hear the story, for what it is,
When it comes to finding answers
This isn’t a pop-quiz.

It’s a joke, in popculture,
Invite the skeptical press
And every sensational vulture,
To pick apart this reality
Skirting, any real journalism,
Unreality must be viewed
With a very careful prism.


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