by James Cronin
Secretive, self-chosen black-lit shadow
of a dim leader, you found all so easy
to control, angling them to each mistake;
puppet-like they jerked to your furtive shake.
And who knows what hid behind your grumpy
glare, sneering lips, and alabaster brow,
as you exposed all of us to spying
and countless souls to torture and dying.
What evil did you, an officious man
do, when bypassing your jerry-rigged heart,
you embraced the dark side in politics?
An unjust war and more were in the mix,
but now that you’re paid to tell all (in part),
you’ll slyly blame the puppets for your plan.
Sneaky might throws right not even a crust
as it hides black lies in history’s dust.
James Cronin is enjoying the view of folly from retirement, after a four decade career in the law.
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