Hear the whispers, echo a, nation’s soul
From the, fortress of, Dystopia –
“Our Naked King, is a hyperbole
Who reigns, with, pompous phobia!”
Democracy is, an aftermath
When defeated by, bread-lusting, clan
Who do not, mind, a psychopath
If he serves, the purpose, of their plan!
How long, could be kept, under lock and key
The trodden, ethos, of democracy
Could sublime, more be, a mutiny
That routs, the odyssey, of hypocrisy!
For we get, the leaders, we deserve
Then why, begrudge, our time’s zeitgeist
Democracy breaks, then mends, it’s nerve
Vows to hilt, and word, The White House Heist!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra