Enshrined Poem by Naveed Akram

We seemed dead on the layers of skin,
Our cadavers were resented by best men.
These same individuals reserved our skin,
For the best of years to come, to rinse carefully.

For we were exacting cruelty and sums of money,
Golden coins became the motley men of ire.
If we served the public, it was a tax or felony,
But when did we deserve to die due to folly.

My death is a thousand deaths, my life is ruined,
But only the laugher is the callous one, the role
He plays is a harder sport, and enjoyment is of all
The roles he cares about with dread in his heart.