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Piscatory Ring like an executor's knuckleduster
Shines nicely on the finger
Engraving of a fish, a symbol of hunger
With an eye that glares at the thoughtless

A golden cane like a compass
Showing the sins of the world
Aiming at us like a cannon
Shooting words at the thought of the misfits

A robe as beautiful as an armour
Protects the caste from decay
Which grows somewhere behind the wall
Enters the daily bread like mould

For centuries they have stood here
Now with a slight fear
They watch what happens
Will they crash to the ground
And forever vanish in the mud?

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