A new poem released by another poet, pinned to trees, the noticeboard, and to houses in the slums.
A raven tamed,
Or put to sleep.
A killer named,
Or left to wreak,
Havoc on the people,
A plague, the plague,
A blessing for some,
A curse for more,
A beast lays down its heavy head,
Yet does not retreat.
The plague does not do any more,
But is not gone.
Cursing some with death,
Blessing others with life,
And so remains the question,
What was the worth,
The life of Circi anew?
At the price of our skin,
At the price of other lives,
At the price of our regals,
Spent on a mask?
So tell me,
Was it worth?