You are the type
that hunts for the truth—
the taxidermist type that
shoots it, guts it, skins it,
and then props it atop
a synthetic mold and
positions it however it pleases you,
standing back
(with your bloody hands concealed)
and complimenting yourself
on how pretty it is
before showcasing it
to your eager supporters.
It is no wonder
that it also pleases you
to do the same to those who
would rather see the truth alive
and well, free from your butchery.
One day, perhaps,
the truth will catch you unaware
in the volatile wilderness
you helped create
and, with its antlered crown,
gore you
with the many fine points
that your opponent presents.

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