This sonnet was written not yesterday. I was told that I went too far. However, in recent days, such opinions have changed:

Word and deed

A broom at the saddle, but a dog’s head.
Five centuries ago ... in fear.
Who did not have time to run from the yard
Disked on the hole and block.

A bag on the face of the eighteenth century,
Someone with a finger will indicate anyone.
And they drag in an order - a man disappeared.
Before you are half a step from the word.

Interrogation for denunciation, a hundred years have not passed,
As they were taken to the dungeons at night.
If not the enemy, then the time has come
In a special order to stand up to the wall.

And again bears, persecution, crowd ...
And the day is real, but everything is like yesterday.