Holy, is hunger, not always
Since bread, is the only, faith and fear
To her, wailing ‘whelp’, a mother says
“It’s Ramadan, learn to, hope and bear”!
Our isle, is a shadow, of its past
In the throes, of Dragon’s, Dollar-Net
That paradise lost, is a, state, downcast
Where bread, is farmed with, blood, tears, and sweat!
To China, since we, sold our soul
Our ethos, squirms, in misery
Life is an, existential, toll
Dying widow, still paying, her dowry!
If we ain’t, Xi’s Colony, we will, soon be
Indeed, that is, Dragon’s endgame
With regime, pimping, Chinese policy
We Live, In A State, Of ‘Sovereign’ Shame!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra