Dictatorships
The night grows tight around the tongue,
a hush imposed by iron hands;
the stars seem frightened, one by one,
retreating from the darkened lands.
A single whisper costs a life—
yet still it trembles through the air,
for even in the grip of strife
a human heart cannot forbear.
Abusive powers rise like storms,
their thunder built on stolen breath;
but souls, though beaten out of form,
still bloom—defying even death.
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