The conspirator’s voice is less than mellow
His heart is black. His eyes are anaemic yellow
He bullies like an unattractive drunkard
With hoodlum deeds and vulgar words
And should a human interfere
He attacks with furore with no fear
I cannot help but deem that this debacle;
Is just another scheme of evil.
Men of the state who live injustice
Clandestinely worship the Genghis
Soon your time for self-worship will come to an end
And not even your pride will befriend
So whatever you want to affirm is pointless;
Your about to be proven guilty without prejudice
Zaheed Patel
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lost-art-of-murder/
