I may have made a poor mistake
And now it seems am paying.
Though suspect I don’t deserve the blame,
The hordes have started baying.
They’re gathered with their pitchforks,
Are poking ‘til I cry.
Demanding for my swift demise
No matter how I try.
They’ve fostered animosity
Passed down from their granddaddies.
And anyone that looks like me,
Asworn to be the baddie.
An unco whom does speak of new,
Or progress or of change…
Will meet with an untimely end
Once triggered their outrage.
Woe be-tide should I exclaim
A critiquing observation.
The furore that it does generate
A blowing-cheeked damnation.
So you shall not now hear my voice
Or be gifted my opinion.
Will creep about and mind my own
Whilst reside in your dominion.
And I have took a true misstep,
Travelled far too far #quitenorth.
Now here am I, a *foreigner*
Well-silenced from henceforth.
sliceandserve 