Media is a stage for circus acts
The spectators watch in awe and fear
Few can discern between illusion and facts
Of performances unfolding across the sphere
The ringmasters hide
In a ball of masquerade
All the performers abide
In their crafted crusade
A few men’s call to unwind
Measures that are useless and blind
Leads to packages intercepted in the air
Pee-ye-tee-end they were found to bear
Truth becomes more concealed
By “fresh insights” revealed
Scapegoats are captured
And security guards lectured
Sheep in panick
The accused in shock
Many discerning minds speak
But one voice takes the flock
Were the actions logical?
Does the plot make sense?
Or have we been watching the musical
Through a tinted lens
On the stage lies a platter of tales
That we watch with whimsical muse
Read with prudence, the daily news
To question or not, it’s yours to choose
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