Under a sky full of media storm,
A mob did gather as clouds
Ripe to protest, disgust and indignation,
Coursing through their blood.
With placards and banners held up high,
And battle cries oscillating with tensile fever
They await a man - a wolf in their eyes
Who is approaching fast despite their siege.
He will venomously spew his vitriolic pleas,
All over the viewing masses who swallow not spit
His twisted history, his minority of demons
The liberal-at-heart wilt and reel into despair.
As the day drags on and the heat does rise,
The mob, hundreds-strong, froth with fury
Burn effigies and bay for bloody crucifixion
They straddle their high horses of morality.
As the wind whips up and the rain comes down,
The sound of an engine burns all ears
The gathered mass grow silent in seconds
The jackal’s motorcade slinks up to the front
From silence to madness, the rabid mob descend
Force the car to halt, drag out the loathsome,
Servile dog, the epicentre of their rage.
His feeble cries go unheeded as they pierce his side,
Entrails hauled around like a wedding dress train
They tear him limb from limb with their bare,
Hands like wings from an insect
They bluntly slice head from neck with their placards
All the while howling and drooling
With a savage and unyielding bloodlust
They gauge out his eyes so that he who,
Could not see, now was blind
And oh how they danced and made merry
In the beast’s guts and rained phlegm
Down upon his dismembered corpse
And when the climax had subsided
The crowd did sit exhausted upon the road
No one said a word, no one shared a glance
They had spent a foe to keep democracy safe
But what now to do?, many of them thought
Onto other injustices, many more protestations await
And so the assembled mass dissipated slowly under the steady rain
Leaving the blood-strewn remnants of their outrage behind them.
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