The Reasonable Man Poem by Alastair Buchan

People like you burn martyrs at the stake.
You hear them scream, inhale the putrid stench
Of justice being done. The righteous make
Their stand, while you watch seated from the bench.

People like you sit blindly at the front,
While shadowed souls in rows are parked behind.
Should one resist your rules, they'll bear the brunt
Of filth that filters through your stolid mind.

People like you sign those silent warrants
That bind our bloodied tongues, X marks the spot.
Gaping, open-mouthed, in grave abhorrence
We see you sell our souls to save your lot.

So don't reach out to me with guilty hands
And say that age will help me understand.