Cassandra

My mind’s my burden.
I am a laughing stock
For people here,
They all mock my fears
When I warn them
About murders
They can evade.
But they allow any sham
Persuade the mob of sheer folly.
When mob is robbed, by golly,
Their malice is less intensive
Than the contempt for me.
It’s so offensive,
How could it be?
The tally is incentive.
Could all be blind?
Or am I out of my mind?


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