The Propagation Poem by Francois Hoon

A subtle tongue finds its way
To places where judgement still empty lay
A screen created in the minds of many
To paint the pictures seen by any

A subtle tongue that twists perception
To colour judgment before conception
The observance of action to make it sense
Dependant on previous data dispensed

The words of his mouth were smoother than butter
But war was all his heart did utter
His words were sounded softer than oil
Yet drawn swords in deceit they’d boil

How do I fight this propagation
Not sinking down to the same temptation
How do I change the truth to be true
Without striving in vengeance and dealing what’s due