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The smell was so obnoxiously pungent,
Escape by all means had never been so urgent.
Calling it nasty was to say the least,
It felt like sitting next to a filthy beast.
Shoes were indeed made for a reason,
Such behaviour was just as bad as treason.

The dispute between the two sides of me began,
The angel pleaing at the devil’s cunning plan.
“Stand up for your rights,” the latter urged,
“Those who need punishment should be purged.”
“No,” cried the angel, the embodiment of peace,
“Such malicious thoughts should be ceased.”

The case closed without any signs of satisfaction.
The devil sulked off for the lack of confrontation,
The angel, while glad for curbing any violent action,
Had actually been awaiting a diplomatic resolution.

Clearly none of them wanted to give way
To the hidden factor at play:
Action of any kind
Can still be hindered by
The hesitation of the mind
And cowardice in it that lies.

On hindsight I put forth this request
(While my note of potential negotiation
Lies crumpled on my desk)
Whenever in public, I ask this of you
Please oh please, put on your shoes.
Everyone gains, and you have nothing to lose.

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