Mob Poem by Keith Dovoric

Guided by emotion,
We make the rush to Judgment
Torches burning in a rage,
We seek the harshest punishment

The freak, the monster -
Trapped in the windmill -
He's our ready target
In a field of insecurity,
We confine him to the margins

Blinded by emotion,
We preclude all sense of reason
Our base natures, stirred to unrest
We storm in angry legions

The mob, the crowd -
Our weapons drawn -
Our minds made up absolutely
The dissenter's opinion and heresy
Hanged from the tree of scrutiny

Tell me, when did we join this mob?
And shouldn't we cancel our membership?
Our primitive urges and intolerant thoughts
Find our higher selves in their grip