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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2119804
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Satire · #2119804
An account of mob justice for the "sinful".
The sun is up with a puke and cringe;
curse the pork I had for dinner.
The show must go on for the fringe;
it's a good day to seek a sinner.

Brewing glass and ice, when I'm told:
seen he was while juicing grape.
The vile concoction's put on hold;
we hung his body like a drape.

Dice in hand and praying for seven,
I saw a card shark in a nook.
Called on duty to serve the heaven,
we drowned him in a nearby brook.

Lost in thoughts of a gendered fair
I listen as the illicit cry.
Secretly, she sees my lair,
as the righteous flames claim the sky.

I preach wisdom, shun bigotry.
Once a dervish dared to ask me.
His query scornful, yet a mystery;
we stoned him and his sweet blasphemy.

With justice served in broad daylight,
in a court that is one of a kind.
Gazing at a mirror every night,
never a sinner do I find.
© Copyright 2017 Naveed~HAIL FLORENT! (naveedsk at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2119804