Remember, Nineteen, Seventy Nine
When faith, was crowned, to reign, with fear
That Ayatollah, who seemed, so benign
Is now, more than, our, divine despair!
“Your lowliness, ain’t, holiness”
Screams, at them, their posterity
Who play, with faith, and fear, like a game, of chess
Behind, facade of, godly austerity!
Mahsa ain’t dead, she still, lives in
A million hearts, of, redemption
Young Iran, dares to, bare their sin
Who instilled, fear in, faith’s diction!
Who, knocks down pride, off, clerics’ heads
Defying, dread; defeating, delusion
Iran tears, ‘pious’ past, to shreds
New Mutiny, Ends, Old Revolution!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra