Inspector Goole

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In shadows cast by evening's grace,
He strides in calmly, a stoic face.
Inspector Goole, with piercing gaze,
Unveils the truths of life's tangled maze.

With questions sharp as a winter's night,
He pries at secrets hidden from sight.
A moral compass, he stands alone,
In a world of pretense, he's truth's cornerstone.

"Each of you," he states, "holds a piece of the blame,
In a web of connections, we're all in the game."
He calls out their lies, their privilege, their pride,
As guilt starts to fester, nowhere to hide.

The Birling family, cloaked in their wealth,
Faced the stark mirror of their moral health.
He probes into choices that led to despair,
Each revelation a heavy cross to bear.

A figure of justice, with purpose defined,
He echoes the plight of the lost and maligned.
For in every life, there's a lesson to learn,
A chance for redemption, a spark to discern.

With echoes of fate, he leaves them to ponder,
The cost of indifference, the weight of their wonder.
As the curtain falls, his message resounds,
In the heart of humanity, true conscience abounds.

So raise a glass to the ghostly guide,
Who leads us through shadows where truths must abide.
Inspector Goole, with his probing insight,
Illuminates darkness, igniting the light.

AN: Was one of my favourite plays 'I don't play golf"

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