She said- like a wolf I leapt into thy jail cell and with a stroke of my paw
Smashed thy cage of its ribs to liberate a heart sweet & raw
Which, thinking it would mature, I cellar'd like wine
'Tis rancid now- take back what is thine!
Without a binding admission of guilt- any blighting offer of restitution
Conflicts with the due process clause of Man's Constitution
Is what, contra Kipling, I wish I'd said
But can't coz Ind's common Mum, Raksha, is dead.
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