Your lies once conveyed in Truth 
now spewed by birds in flight,
a lamb’s chirp in pursuit of recognition;
a legacy of butchers and little men
tally unstable rulers without rules, balls 
or chance of ever becoming anyone
of lasting importance; your legacy
is the rotting onion, the doll
within a doll,
without soil
to prosper. 
Your lies once conveyed in Truth 
now die by day,
die by night
in the fading light 
— of lunacy.