aged and born.
the voting line
their duty coerced.
divided blocs, you see,
“there’s a monster with a whip!”
but who’s warning should i dare heed?
the red corner,
vulgar and bare:
“you were replaced. color can be spared.
the ground is yours, grab it by your hands.”
the blue corner,
both in frighted faces and hair:
“it’s her turn; the promised queen, just buck up and unite!
a new aristocracy, i’m with them for the fight.”
but what of the ones with peace of mind?
“a voice wasted,”
their teeth barred,
“an ocean of blood by your hand.”
an honest voice,
i tell them, echoed by few,
but a voice unsilenced by your propaganda whip.