The Root

[Weeded]

It starts small, slowly spreading like
a bitter taste some like. Some don't.
Until a zealot makes it so
important people turn corrupt
just for a single second of
that aftertaste. It burns you numb
until you need it; once you need
it you demand it, which creates
supply essential every time
a person tastes. The zealot knows
his forte tricks like his right hand,
surrounding blind heretics with
men who need, so schismatic zeal
turns into zealots. More zealots
turn into a small annoyance
for some while others don't quite mind.

In fact, supply control is their
strength. They change worlds, all for a taste.
Addiction spreads, so they become
more. With more brings demand which brings
men power. They sit back and laugh
because they know how simple rules
create them while others remain
blind to the taste that somehow sparks
like French champagne on the mouths roof,
tickling like sensations of breath
or comfort building cellars on
gravesites and tombs. The product: all

you see. No grape just bottles full
for you. Go on and have a taste,

now tell me what you see.