Member Poem

(On Electoral Fraud & Rigged Elections)

They cast their votes in hope’s embrace,
Yet find deceit in its old place.
The ink still dries, yet truth is burned,
As ballots twist, as wills are turned.

A silent pen, a stolen name,
Democracy is but a game.
The choice they made dissolves like mist,
As rulers cheat with iron fist.

The streets erupt in cries denied,
Yet armored hands still push aside.
A voice is lost, a life is torn,
And freedom hangs, a dream stillborn.

The ones in power paint the sky,
With slogans bold, yet built on lies.
The masses kneel, the banners wave,
Yet only coffins march the grave.

The counting stops, the numbers shift,
The losers fade, the winners drift.
A king is crowned, the people sigh,
For truth was sold—democracy died.

But winds will change, and tides will turn,
And rigged empires always burn.
A time will come, a voice will rise,
To cleanse the throne of hollow lies.

For ballots stained with blood and tears,
Will haunt the land for countless years.
And truth, though buried, will not sleep,
Its roots still grow, its scars run deep.