Tuesday 12 April 2022

Your Guilt

by Nick Gisburne

Bow down, bow low, and beg for mercy’s hand,
For this is not a scene you can survive.
The evidence is seamless. Understand?
It cracks the cold excuses you contrive.
With trickery your twisted mouth is full,
Indifference polluting every plea.
You cannot ride this rampant, raging bull,
Demanding, ever foolish, to be free.
No blush of guilt, not even when you’re caught.
How cosy now, the cushion of your lies?
Denial is the dogma were taught,
And here it is, in colour. No surprise.
    Corruption breaks the wicked wall you built,
    And in its dust and rubble is your guilt.