The little red-faced man yelled as he slid down the hill

He yelled, and he lied

He said it was just an act

Except when it wasn’t

Like when he uses the grief of the parents of the dead children

It’s not when he scares his followers into keeping weapons handy

Always hiding behind the word of the law, he sacrifices its spirit like a roach under his boot

And as he slides down the hill, his face gets redder and he gets more desperate