Another Poem Appears
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Darkness hiding every move
The figure drifts from patch to patch
Of darkling shade and eldritch black
Another innocent life to snatch.
Taking, squeezing, wrenching neck
And then the rope, a simple stretch
As each young lady, whore it’s true
Is loft on high, and in the morn
The guards do fetch
Her down again and sigh and shake
Their weary heads, so tired the few
Who seek to manage
What so many used to do
And who’s to blame them if they say
That suicide has marred there day
A simpler thing to just let it go
To seek the truth would take too much
From those that work to keep us safe
And so we ask of those in power
In Finest Peltarchs darkest hour
Who will move to fill the ranks?
To make the streets safe once again?
Or must we treat the docks and wharves
As once again a place of fear
A place the simple citizen
Should tremble just to be too near.
Politics is cried and called
Around the city, whilst appalled
At all that’s left to drift and fester
In the darkness of our city
Citizens I ask you, pester
Each senator and magistrate
We fear to move in our own streets
The politicians are there for us
Not for their own aggrandizement
And so before it is too late
It’s time to test the government
We won the war, or so we’re told
To win the peace we must be bold
Since for life, the Senate rules,
It makes no sense to follow fools.
The women die, the gangs run riot
For all our peace
There is no Quiet.The Shadow Poet
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_Passing through the docks on an errand, Ogam spies a copy of the poem tacked to the faded clapboards of a warehouse, and pauses to read it.
Any who see him slip away through the shadows of the narrow streets would notice his expression is decidedly thoughtful, and perhaps troubled._
