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And I still couldn't figure out why he was doing it.
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And I had to know, because it was horrible
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that all these beetles should be dying for no reason.
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Every day around the world,
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men, women, and children are murdered by the score.
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Who gives a dusty fuck about a bunch of beetles?
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I know, I know. But still, it filled me with dread.
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Piles and piles of them, years and years of them.
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How many countless living crawling things
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smashed and dried out and returned to the dirt?
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In my dreams I found myself
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standing on a beach made of beetle husks