Who’s seized, your soul, your mind, your heart
Who owns, every inch, of your, expression
In this state, since, Bonaparte, slayed Mozart
Every voice, celebrates, its crucifixion!

In this, indoctrinated, schizophrenia
You ain’t, beyond, a family’s whims
Your utopia, is a, dynastic dystopia
Where you, regurgigate, legacy of Kims!

First family’s mourning, must be, your death
For you, ain’t even there, in their, wish-lists
Their glory, must be, your soul’s, shibboleth
You’re the puppets, and pawns, of your Alchemists!

Be a, live doormat, than a, dead trophy
And in, UN, a tyrant’s, Republic Souvenir
An ethos, believes, in its, atrophy
In The Lair, Of, Dynasty’s Fear!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra