He came begging for
consent
With his innocent
melodious accent
Resembling Mother Teresa's
reincarnate
All fell for the
masquerade,
Bacon he promised,
His dear life too
Like a martyr straight
from heaven.
With drooling appetite for
loose change
On the driving seat
The bait, we wholesomely
swallowed
Stunningly, for the millionth time
Long before the pig left
the sty
En-route to the imaginary
abattoir.
Why then the rumbling
Now that the bacon
Is no where on the menu
While in the sty
The pig is grappling for
more ration.
Isn't it not wise to
salivate
For bacon promised by a
pig
While his head is still
intact
And his snout still
delving in sludge?
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