Wolves in suits, they prowl the halls,
Cowards cloaked in justice’s calls.
They bootstrapped crimes on backs of meek,
While voices silenced dare not speak.
Behind the iron bars they throw,
The innocent, for crimes too low,
While in their clubs they drink and sway,
Their duty long since cast away.
Elected hands once sworn to guide,
Now craft a system steeped in pride,
A shadowed realm where truth is bent,
And mercy’s voice is long absent.
Their kin and cronies, free to roam,
Escape the fate of crimes well-known.
With pardons signed, their sins erased,
The guilty stride with shameless grace.
They preach of justice, new and bold,
While hearts of stone their secrets hold.
A leader’s name they dare defile,
Who seeks to cleanse their toxic guile.
Yet tides will turn, as tides must do,
When truth ascends, their lies unglue.
The people’s voice, a thunder’s cry,
Will strip the wolves of their disguise.
No longer caged, no longer bound,
The meek shall rise on hallowed ground.
And justice, though delayed, will reign,
Restoring balance once profaned.
AI generated poem by Chatgpt.com
