Member Poem

(On Corrupt Leadership & Dictatorships)

The crown was carved from stolen grain,
A throne of skulls, a land in chains.
The tyrant smiles, his hands still red,
While famished mouths are left unfed.

He speaks of peace with lips that lie,
Yet bullets carve his lullaby.
The courts are mute, the law’s in sleep,
While widows wail and orphans weep.

He feeds them dust, he feeds them sand,
Yet dreams still burn across the land.
For though his scepter bends the air,
One day, it cracks—no throne is spared.