Health Data as a Weapon
Power does not shout.
It collects.
What shocks the world
is not strategy,
but hypocrisy.
America preaches sovereignty.
Yet demands yours.
Data is sacred at home.
Disposable abroad.
African leaders,
you sign away bodies
you do not own.
Consent was never asked.
Silence was purchased.
Even foolishness
has a limit.
How long will you trade futures
for promises?
Data is not paperwork.
It is power.
He who owns it
writes tomorrow.
You hand over blood,
bones,
and breath—
then call it partnership.
You trust a deal
crafted by Donald Trump,
a man who measures nations
by profit, not dignity.
You trade minerals
for ink.
Lives
for paper.
What will your children inherit—
databases,
or chains?
Through data,
Africa is mapped.
Measured.
Exposed.
Colonies no longer need soldiers.
Only servers.
Citizens of Africa,
history is watching.
A ruler who sells his people
is not a leader.
He is a broker.
And power,
as Niccolò Machiavelli warned,
respects only those
who guard it.
Remember this:
Who controls data
controls destiny.
And destiny, once surrendered,
is rarely returned.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
