The Communist Uprising

Why do i, in agony writhe when thine eyes, draw a curtain to my plight. When words screech for attention, you only perceive verbose melodrama. Or perhaps you live in spite of a class in strife? And that you guise in colours of safron and never knew what it means to be Red. Such is the nature of your love for this land. Such is your justice, such is the nature of the judgement you've drawn in your hand. You who hath justified loot and plunder Count the casualties of intense struggle. A mere statistic. An amoral victory. I know that your masters are fragile But must You tremble and cower in the presence of a spectre; The sights and sound of a distant red cry. Or is it that it is not a ghost you see but the myriad hammers and sickles of a justice so real; served at last.