Miscarriage - 2011/04/24

Justiciars armed and at ready
Riding horses of great import
Soaking up yells of the crowd
They march their way to court
All facts of their case known
They shall pronounce sentence
The cheers of simple peasants
Declare desire for repentance

Yet not all is as we expected
For their charges are dropped
Agreed to a pittance in trade
Leaving the heads not chopped
So they slink freedom in hand
Beyond the just searing light
Back to their darkened towers
Beyond the reach of our spite

We stare on at dismal wonders
Heads bowed for hearts broken
Our faith in those justiciars
Nothing more than a sad token
Here our rags smell of sterno
In our hands there is nothing
Yet we search now for weapons
For the law has been bluffing

No comments:

Post a Comment