Member Poem

(On Corrupt Leadership & Dictatorships)

A throne of gold, a crown so bright,
Yet all is built on hollow might.
His voice commands, yet none defy,
For fear is king where freedoms die.

The palace gates are lined with bone,
The people's cries are dust and stone.
His laws are inked in silent screams,
Yet draped in noble, empty dreams.

The streets once bloomed with hope untamed,
Now bear the scars of dreams defamed.
For every word that dared to rise,
Was buried deep beneath the lies.

He feeds them bread, yet steals their land,
He claims his rule is fate’s demand.
Yet puppets dance where tyrants play,
And justice kneels in mute decay.

But power rusts, and time forgets,
A reign of chains breeds deep regrets.
A hand once feared, a name once praised,
Will fade to dust in history’s haze.

No crown will last, no walls endure,
No iron grip can make truth pure.
The tides will shift, the sun will set,
And tyrants drown in their own debt.

A paper crown will burn with ease,
For thrones built high will fall like leaves.
The whispers grow, the fire spreads,
And freedom wakes where silence bled.