The Battle We Keep Losing - South Africa
They said freedom had come —
But freedom came wearing chains.
We sing the anthem with cracked voices,
Because the dream has grown thin like pain.
We rise each morning with fists of hope,
Only to find the system laughing,
Paper crowns on crooked kings,
While the poor keep coughing dust.
Our heroes’ names are now signatures
on contracts soaked in greed.
They build empires on broken backs,
And call it “service to the people.”
The President smiles on TV,
The Judges wear robes of gold,
The Ministers drive through hunger,
And the truth is quietly sold.
The police protect the powerful,
The powerful protect themselves.
And we — the people — march in circles,
Singing songs the deaf can’t hear.
We think we are fighting,
But we’re just bleeding in silence.
Our battles are hashtags,
Our cries are just echoes in courtrooms.
They call it democracy —
But it feels like a cage with pretty lights.
The Big Five feed in the dark,
While the rest of us dream of daylight.
This is our story —
A land of gold and graves,
Where hope still breathes beneath the rubble,
Refusing to die, even when betrayed.
One day, the people will remember
That power was always theirs.
And when they rise — truly rise —
No commission, no minister, no judge
Will be able to bury their truth again.
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