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The Few conspire in shadows deep,
With whispered vows they vow to keep.
Their schemes are hidden, sharp, refined,
To fracture families, hearts, and minds.
Divide and conquer—ancient art,
To prize the world and tear apart.
They’ve gained a tool, both vast and strange,
A DNA Bank to rearrange.
With codes of blood, the secrets lie,
Of lineage traced, of truth or lie.
A costly search, yet some will pay,
For proof to show, for love’s decay.
A child may seek the father’s name,
To test the bond, to shift the blame.
Yet fatherhood is more than seed,
It blooms in care, in daily deed.
A cruel show once, on TV aired,
Where human pain was cheaply shared.
A banker smiled while families broke,
Each test a lash, each word a yoke.
And spiteful youth, with money near,
May buy the truths they should not hear.
A parent shamed, a home undone,
A war within, that few have won.
But worse, the rogues with hearts of coal,
Could blackmail life, could damn the soul.
A secret loosed, a weapon made,
A trust betrayed, a love decayed.
TheFew will dress this gift as kind,
A cure for sickness, peace of mind.
They claim it heals, they claim it saves,
Yet dig instead a field of graves.
For who can guard the strands we keep,
When Few awake and rest still sleep?
Their baby steps, their creeping plan,
To bind the beast, to cage the clan.
So question what they sell as sweet,
Beware the prize that tastes of deceit.
For none so blind as those who say,
The Few are gone, or lost their way.
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Catch Ya Later ….
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Copyright © Ven Bunce 2025
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