The Twist

Dejectedly he stood in the prosecution box.
Tears made numerical eleven on his face.
A droplet escaped and dropped on his socks.
His heartbeat increased in its pace.
His mind did register it was a bad hoax.
Yet truth sprang like contesters in a race.
Wishes are not horses but  fox.
All did gasht in his pace.

In the accusation box stood all animals domestic.
They looked agitated and bitter.
They drove the man in speed so hectic.
All evidence stood, his pleadings like litter.
He lacked convincing tactic.
Cries of anguish from him did utter.
Wishes are not horses but  fox.
All did gasht in his pace.

"He keeps us locked," shouted the cattle.
"And feeds us stale food," they added.
Their words were as poison from a rattle.
Vengience poured as a gun loaded.
Eating green brought heavy battle.
Thieves they were unceremoniously called.
Wishes are not horses but a fox.
All did gasht in his pace.

"He has imprisoned us in captivity.
We can't roam the world as before."
The fouls were bitter in gravity.
"We need the life of yore."
They added this with much velocity.
And flapped their wings in great ire.
Wishes are not horses but a fox.
All did gasht in his pace.

Pandamendum broke in the court.
The accusers wanted the man dead.
The judge adjusted his tie and coat.
Then loudly had his throat cleared.
"The man toils to feed you from his pot.
A servant he has become so he pleaded."
Wishes are not horses but a fox.
All did gasht in his pace.

He talked without flinching an eyelid.
"Go back to be tendered like babies.
You are useless like an invalid.
I find the man not guilty of the charges.
He stood up so stolid.
The court dismissed without fines.
Wishes are not horses but a fox.
All did gasht in his pace.