If the Purge were real, I’d probably just “release the beast” by committing a bunch of small, largely non-violent crimes. I’d take out my frustrations by breaking into a candy store and filling my pockets with gummy bears, or maybe smash my way into a toy store to clean out their selection of Amiibo figures. Take that, society.

Here’s a poem.

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Give me your poor, weak
Your wretched refuse, yearning
Your masses, huddled

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