The Fall Of The Plagiarist...

Pleased to meet you, Mr. Poet. I have seen your jacket of work, supposed epic tales of Life that you, yourself quilled, through Wisdom of Poetry, along with the many accolades- you allegedly amassed from World competition, on your way to humbled acceptance 'en Poet Laureate'! . Well, guess what, Mr. Poet, you're a guise wrapped up in lies! I have documents to show it, and a lawyer too who knows it. You, an artist? Yeah, bull s**t with the prefix ''con'' in front of it! Plagiarism is a cowards crime, worthy of a stint in Attica's slime, which perhaps could be constructive, while you're serving out your time; you could dwell in your cell and read real verse, learn to write your very own rhymes! Now, there's one last thing you ought to know before you pen Anothers' poem; There are countries who do find your kind, like an mojo bag disguised in silk with dross inside, such places that deem you past forlorn, where Plagiarists are hung at Dawn! FjR-MMXVI