Funhouse Mirrors In The Hague

A poem:

Perpetrators wear the victim’s guise, a masquerade that truth defies, reverse victimhood, a macabre dance, holding the truth in a somersault stance.

On a spiders spindle, scales of justice sway, in the bright-lit courthouse where falsehoods play, a narrative spun, out of malice and spite, Israel, the victim dangling in the nations’ sights.

Ignorance thrives in the absence of brightness, fanning flames of disgust for the Jewish Nation to incite, they warp perception like funhouse mirrors, the innocent vilified, offenders hiss, come hither.

In accusations cast by twisted tales, where victimhood goes off the rails, with prosecution, the theme persists, a swear-in chorus publicizing an upside down lists.

But beware, oh nations, discern the lie, unmask the shadows, free integrity to fly, for in the depths of cracked illusions, a watching Gods weeps for truths confusions.