He wraps in garments loud, wherein conceit is finely sewn
A strident voice demands to heed a wisdom seldom shown
With finger raised, he crowns self as warden of virtue’s gate
Yet every step betrays the path he bids the world appreciate.
His utterances ignite fires while quiet hearts solicited peace
He scatters discord in the air until faith and bonhomie cease
Outrage is his daily art, while unheard remains his conscience
The loud and atrocious tirade hides the poverty of discipline.
Alas! The man is a garish clown, and a walking kaleidoscope
Who never stop hurling wild slurs even against virtuous name
A biased and flamboyant squint, a circus wrapped in neon gale
His shrill argument, poor discernment turns debate to shame.
Avoid such souls with a controlled rage, don’t let spite prevail
Let character, not argument, become the truth that cannot fail
Time and patience reveals the greasepaint of the crooked mirror
The rightful reply to hypocrisy is practicing virtue now and ever.
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