Politics

I hear twisted words

Like leaves on a vine.

Words jumbled through punctured ears,

Words people dine

upon.

 

Vicious, rapid, jumbled they sing.

They catch a flying bird

And twist its wing

off.

 

Broken, no longer proud,

A simple mixed up crowd

Like chickens with their heads cut

off.

 

Simple, simple,

Yet how loud we do cry.

And like a perfect orchestra 

Together we’ll

Die.
 

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