by Nick Gisburne
A secretive, selective, sacred school
Infuses fear and loathing through the soul.
Its bedrock is a twisted root, a rule:
The purest, seeking evil, shall be whole.
Destructive dogma cultivates contempt.
No deviance, no doubt, defies the script.
As one, the minds of children, turned, attempt
No challenge, lest their errant flesh be whipped.
Indoctrination, ritual, routine,
Where thought becomes a tool to serve the strong.
The mantra that outsiders are unclean
Compels the heart to follow, to belong.
Another class of evil walks the streets,
While new recruits, unsoiled, assume their seats.
