Revolutions are penned, with blood, not ink
By those, who dare, for truth, faith of fear!
Those minds, ain’t spared, who brave to think
“World is, worth more, than lies austere”!
You never know, when you, become a lie
A pawn of, a puppeteer’s, puffery
A fistful of ‘fools’, still love to die
In the vain conquest, of hideous history!
Bleeding scars of wars, buried under, lies’ tombs
How mandates are, stolen o’er, social media
Clans, ethos, wiped out, in ‘patriotic’ pogroms
Whilst truth, licks the wounds, of its dead chutzpa!
If truth is all, that plagues, your plots
Its crusaders cause, your souls’ mayhem
Make Neo-Christs, of these, Truth-Zealots
Don’t Shoot The Messengers, Do Crucify Them!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra