Whiskers

A brotherhood halved by a single action,
The survivors remain, wholly by faction.
The battle rages without a shot,
tobacco alone, or drugs and pot.
Your cloudy past pollutes the home,
a traitor alive, out on the roam.
A pen did more than knife or spear,
a third strike now our greatest fear.
Sly like a mouse, but more of a rat,
making us ill where once we were fat.
Whiskers your name,
heinous your fame.
Clueless to hate,
yet freedom your fate.
A traitor and a liar,
a seller, yet a crier.

You have no peace in this our castle,
the price you pay not worth the hassle.
Hated by all, yet absorbed by a few,
Ruined alone, by all that you knew.
Smoke and speech have done us in
Open your eyes and see this sin.