Tyranny of the Majority

They come with pitchforks, they come with fire.
They fuck each others' fears, courage they sire.
Enough negatives breed a positive outcome,
feel your resolve weaken? Drink lusty shouts like rum;
the brew of your* belief makes you strong,
the future of rights obscures a slight wrong.

Meet your victim: a young girl - no, a flithy slut,
Her lips stained with feminine juices, her skin carved and cut.
So raise your weapons!, raise your voice!, don't let the witch talk!
Correct her ill-concieved ways, it's not called rape behind a lock.

*(their, their, mine)