His manner’s ordinary
In plain sight’s where he hides
Part of an unknown order
Of men known as Bromides

He’ll lull you to a snooze
He’ll ease you to a slumber
As yawns turn into snores
The mood he will encumber

He’ll draw you in at first
A masterful pretender
Well trained in lethargy
Ennui he will engender

So if you meet the Bromide
Speak with him no more
For no good ever came from
The master of torpor


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