Poli.tick

Along the splintered bed of thorns

Aligned the bodied dungeon whores

Entwined in filth they mixed and brined

With eyes wide shut and social blind

"Speak to your sins" each sprite bellowed

"Your evil craved a demon crow"

With a flick of the wrist civility caved

Drowned in a cesspool of a plagued enclave

For too much is given to purveyors of scorn

When small minds congeal, we sound the horn.