Ay me, what act, That roars so loud and thunders in the index?

The Index.
Normally a quiet document
Cataloging all manners of acts
Tiny
Good
Large
Bad.
A child picks a daisy
A child throws a rock
A man writes a love letter
A man murders his wife
A leader makes a speech
A leader bankrupts the nation
It all just ticks along
The index
It doesn’t have time to judge
It takes too much time to catalogue everything
But occasionally something runs through shouting
It’s really no worse than half the other things in the index
But it makes more noise.

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