Justification! Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

When ruthless justification is done,
Even every evil becomes a saint,
To make their own mind, a field,
Full of colorful roses holding thorns,
Choose a long scissors: to cut those roses,
To decorate our own yards, leaving,
All those needles of thorns to the plants,
To struggle hard to pierce through the thorns,
The shoots will emerge to deliver the flowers,
Of beautiful bunches of roses for someone else,
As the offspring don't belong to the scorn,
And not wonderful, when left in the bush,
Let us pluck it, wear those on the garlands,
Dissolve aspirin in the vase to make the roses,
Drowsy to last longer; Let us pluck those flowers,
And let the justified plants suffer in silence.