TORMENTS OF THE TRODDEN
The body is weak so the soul must speak
The tumult cannot prod so silence must yell at its peak
Triggered miseries would not yield our moans would not heed
If truth must succumb to your gimmickry then rife will be enthroned
If the rod lingers the anguish in our eyes can’t be dethroned
If silence would wail then the deafening clamor should be scorned
If the stillness of our battered eyes can’t tell
Then our lurking woes can’t be spared
Hatred will not budge, so love must wait in the wings
If peace smells then anarchy can’t stink
If your selfishness derides our selflessness
Then your emptiness will nurse our togetherness
If gloom must prevail over light
Then your steps can’t tell their plight
Your indictments convicts our innocence
Our presumed conviction will heighten the decadence
Your greed and apathy have taken love hostage
But our virtues will surely be back on stage
Even if your pride will try to insist
Our inflicted pangs shall certainly resist
If you want us to go downstream at a gallop
Then your weight will betray you like a ballot
For you shall slip downstream at the speed of light
You shall no more be there for us to despise
Giant trees!
Gather all the morning’s dew in the palms of your massive arms
You will split your stalks from its weight
And gleefully we shall take over your fate
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