Sirs, if you would please
let our people go as they will.
Your collar on their necks is too tight.
It steals their breath.
It dims their sight.
It twists their minds
in your unholy light
with distorted tales
meant to keep them near
where you can hear
their strangled cheers.
These are not cheers of joy,
but cheers of fear.
Sirs, the game is up.
Now, only cruelty
fills your cup.
No policies nor principles
guide your foolish pride.
History is not on your side.
Your wealth must abide
on steadier ground.
Sirs, you can no longer hide
behind false claims and lame
excuses for false supremacy.
Better to unlock the grip of lies
you use to hold onto
power never due you.
The power, sirs, is ours.
Spreading chains across ballot boxes
weakens the nation, but not it’s people.
The power is ours, sirs, not yours.
Sirs, if you would please, step aside.
Move to higher ground
before the tide turns into a flood
and streets run red rivers of blood
across a country mired in shame
to have lost democracy.
You, sirs, if you please, are to blame.
annarino writes 