Their intentions to serve, so they say,
Is the people’s plight, the people’s cause
And, that only, is the whole prophesized truth.
In the name of the masses, the down-beaten dusty masses
Promises are made of better tomorrows, in a land,
Where the sun has fully risen, and left all, equal.
But, when the windows to opportunity become draped
In the colors of affiliation, where are we to fit in,
With our hue-less faces, and, black n’ white selves.
When what is given to Caesar does not go to Rome,
Who will hold us to ransom when we bear the right
To cry theft from tattered, rat chewed pockets.
When all that we stood for has been lost,
Aren’t our seeking hearts not justified to trek the miles, and,
Knock for answers from doors, which have raised the questions.
When the sword is empowered, to put the pen on the leash
For shunning the hand that never fed it. Is Freedom really,
A reality one can believe, truly does exist?
When choice becomes a Two-Way street between two devils,
Where are to run to, except be taken in by the one,
Masquerading in the lesser evil.
When we have screamed our lungs out, what are we to do?
Except hope that tomorrows yet to come, those wielding our fates,
Will see the lines, creasing our chiperoni beaten faces.
© 2010 Cozmik Da Wordsmith
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