Tyranny
I reach down, my hand brushing the soil,
The dead earth now charred and barren, decayed -
All that we have touched is now grains in my palm,
A madness that stems from a despotic rule.
Our own fervour about almighty justice nailed.
Is a fierce rush of revenge and power.
Is this how we are meant to be?
Tyrants of the world, embittered in lunacy.
Copyright © Noel Onat | Year Posted 2018
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