To The Tyrant Poem by Richard Jarboe

Your mouth is an open grave,
Your words are nails in a coffin,
Your thoughts are pollution
You lead to destruction.

You are our Just Deserves,
A product of our dire indifference,
Yes, you out conned all the conmen,
With deceit as your preference.

Your lies caught the poor
In a net fixed on the helpless,
While you made it your chore
To crush the defenseless.

The maggots in your mouth
Putrify your sound,
But it won't be long
'Til you're not around.

That's the good news,
Nothing lasts forever.
You'll find your place in hell,
While we're still together.