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Beware the Tyrant
Tyrants fat upon their moon
With untold minions to command...
Knew a diversion would be needed
As malcontent laid waste the land.
They yearn to cast aspersion
By letting forth a hellish storm
Against those of us far far away
With thoughts different from their own.
What about the children?
They shriek about the public square.
We must squash their parents' freedom
To show truly how we care.
Children are the future
And must parrot what we say.
It's up to us to know what's right
When parents lose their way.
Mount your horses... beat the drums...
We must forge our discontent.
A child is far too sacred
To be left with those of ill intent.
I know scant about these people
But know their moon's a mess.
It's odd their eyes have strayed so far
With local grievances to address.
It's an illusion old as time itself...
To cast a weary outward gaze
On those who differ from themselves
To foment some distant craze.
So here I stand... sword in hand
As they mount the castle walls...
While Tyrants mark a distant hill
To watch my city fall.
If only a word to bend the ear
Of those who wish my end of days.
Your rancor is misguided...
Let the children find their way.
But I knew the cost of liberty
Where a penance now was due.
As freedom has a shelf life
When you share not the Tyrant's view.
The End
Copyright ©
David Mchattie
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