ode, Poem

MOMENT OF TRUTH

All voices silenced
the thirst is quenched.
6 foot under, buried the stench.

Mutiny is past,
the crowds never last,
dissipated with a teary blast.

the land is red,
the hands have bled,
my rights hang by the thread.

what do i do?
i am land’s son too,
they take what’s mine ,without adieu.

so i mock their plight,
Ropes are my respite ,
i hang my dreams and take my flight.

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