Justifying Any Means Poem by Alfred Barna

Indeed, pity the men who so feel
That they now have become their own judge
For dark their hearts in shadow conceal
In their thievery that they somehow can smudge
Witnesses upon all their atrocities
And say I am the law, and I alone have blinded
For the secrets kept and their curiosities
Have made them double minded
You cannot expunge what has been written
For true justice is equally dealth
Of the poor and foolish that you have smitten
To build your empire of worldly wealth
You, whom have stooped so low to pretend
You are better; but from the lie you have slithered
You cannot change one iota of what has been penned
You are impotent to change the sentence delivered
And your money cannot buy the jailers keys
I pity you for all your sorrows you shall then be taken
Finally, your clans and your company make high degrees
Into a fire into which your souls all a quaken