By Rajan George
Crooks can never admire good deeds,
Though they claim they do.
With vice and greed, they only spew
Hatred from their shadowed hearts.
Demonizing virtuous souls
Runs deep within their veins.
They never tire of casting doubt
On those who shatter their deceit.
They plunder public trust with ease,
Yet when caught in brazen crime,
They drape themselves in virtue’s cloak—
A mask they secretly despise.
Incapable of doing good,
They revel in the slinging mud,
Mocking those who give so much
To serve the land they truly love.
They whine, they rant, they never cheer,
No wisdom graces their deceit,
Only curses, bile, and spite
For those whose light they cannot dim.
No leadership, no honest aim,
No virtue to their name—
Only arrogance and guile
To shroud their hollow, fruitless claim.
A capricious mind that twists the truth,
Sees crime as right and virtue wrong,
Finds no joy in noble deeds,
But feeds an endless, soulless greed.
