Poor Julian Assange

Ah, poor Julian, you weren't cut out to be
A debonair bloke on a criminal spree
Publish secrets of a million warriors
In a country with a zillion lawyers
And then try your hand as a flighty soul
With a press conference at your hidey hole
You see, Julian, if you run you should hide
You can't relax with the law right outside
Spend seven years in a stranger's own house
When all the while you are trapped like a mouse
So here we are in the cold morning mist
You're about to face a country that's pissed

4-15-19
Contest:Julian Assange
Sponsor:Kai Michael Neumann
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Gauthier Avatar
April 14, 2019 at 9:15 PM
Great emotion and rhythm coming through in your poem.
Bradfield Avatar
April 14, 2019 at 9:17 PM
Thanks, Line! I feel pretty strongly about everyone making up their own laws these days!
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