3/1/2018
The Jobs of Justice
As Day Brakes. Their is a Sound. A Screech. Like a Elongated Crack is the Sky. Lightning. A Mystery. A Sudden Mischief of Some Kind. Fright. A High-Caliber Sound. A Master. A Roar. Sounding like a Round from a Rifle that was Meant to Collide. A Round for the Enemy. From Across the Field. Destiny. A Football Fields Length. Maybe Six. Maybe Seven. It's Justice. The Shield. Country. A Lucky Day for the Department of Defence. Creed. Now Also to Prosecute into the Forbidden Chair. Sanitize. Buried on the Grounds. Prison. Outside Grounds. The Few. The Unproud. Justified. No Name is Needed. Still again Taking the Shot. Disguise. Cloaking and Stealthy. The Day Brakes. There is a Elongated Sound that is a Crack in the Sky. The Mischiefs thought They were a Master, but the Blast from the Chair Sanitized Their Minds. The Defence is a Dance and the Prosecution must Pursue Twice as Hard in this Day in Age. The Legal Rulings are Lenient to the Crimes. It's a Liberal's Paradise at Times...
M.J.S.
- Author: MJS (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: April 8th, 2018 21:50
- Comment from author about the poem: Just some Crazy Thoughts on this Day put to Use.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 21
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