Oh, how they spin their tales so grand,
With forked tongue and sleight of hand.
They point, they cry, they feign despair,
Yet truth stands laughing—well aware.
They build their castles made of lies,
Yet act as saints in righteous guise.
But flimsy walls will rot and break,
For justice waits—make no mistake.
The heavens watch, the scales don’t sway,
No bribe can wash their sins away.
False tongues may dance and twist with glee,
But God records each perjury.
So let them bask in fleeting fame,
And smear the innocent with blame.
For soon they’ll beg, for mercy plead
Yet reap the fate of their own seed.
Poem by: Jeshma Dsouza