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The Public Servant (Poem)

Beware, beware, the one who kills with fear

He prowls, he searches, for victims old and gray

At night, at dusk, he arrives in mystery

Mourn, grieve, for your loved ones’ misery


Silently, wistfully, into the minds of the weak he will tear

Agape, open, a face of fear the dead display

They scream, they cry, at such a terrible sight

They panic, they stumble, what action shall they take this night?


Make way! Step aside! The authorities have come to ponder

Baffled, bewildered, they discover no leads or clues

Distressed, troubled, they withdraw empty handed

Torn, scarred, faces of horror into their minds branded


He knows, he knows, never has a need to wonder

Where to, what next, authorities he will confuse

Plotting, scheming, he will never cease

No end, no finale, never shall they know peace


Beware, beware, you know you feel he’s here!

Tremble, cower, what is your deepest fear?

To die? To suffer? Now into your mind he will peer

Are you strong? Are you weak? He will know and he will jeer


Now his work complete

No need to be discrete

A message for the observant

“All has been done by yours truly, the Public Servant”

Chapter 1