Judicial Storm Upon Pharma Realm

In halls of justice, gavels fall like rain, Upon the shield of Pharma's storied name. No crest of gold shall ward the piercing claim, Nor Sacklers' pleas set precedent aflame. For every coin spun from the weaver's loom, Must answer to the highest court's own tune. Within the storm, the tempest finds its boom, And makes clear that no crown is immune.

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