Creation cast off by the reeking pond, Of mediocrity, of virtue far too fond. Verses and stanzas that slam their hearts Against the walls of disregard. And they cast aside, The one who dared to stray too wide. Decent folk don't like wild grass, Only few would, on principle, let such torment pass As much as Emile Nelligan did. A soul branded by mocking crowds, Whose creeds spit on what's not allowed. History loops, repeats its crime, Same old tale, another time.

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