What do you do with a broken priest?
Feed him to the populace,
Never enough for a perfect feast,
Never for surfeited success,
But the crowd is hungry. Meat is rare,
Entertainment is anywhere.
Deserves what he gets, the broken priest,
The chattering mute, the empty bag.
Nothing but scraps, down to the least
Disordered ort on the fleeing hag.
Tell it at night, and make it scan,
Delicate rhyme for a damaged man.
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