There’s a poem by Honorable Scythe Socrates—one of the first scythes. He wrote many poems, but this one has grown to be my personal favorite. Have not a hand in the blade with abandon, Cull from the fold all the brazen and bold, For a dog who just might, Love the bark and the bite, Is a carrion raven, the craven of old. It reminds me that in spite of our lofty ideals and the many safeguards to protect the Scythedom from corruption and depravity, we must always be vigilant, because power comes infected with the only disease left to us: the virus called human nature. I fear for us all if scythes
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