Paper Crown: A Poem
Millions shrink to the whims of one.
We were told:
the ballot is a sword.
Sharp enough to sever tyrants.
But the blade is dulled.
The hand shackled.
The podium preaches propaganda.
The flag sags in silence.
The anthem twisted into
a drumbeat for marching boots.
Ink-stained promises rot.
Decrees, smothering them.
The people’s voice:
whispered echoes in marble tombs.
Laws tighten like nooses.
Truth gags.
Millions shrink
to the whims of one.
The eagle…
Pinned and broken,
bows to a paper crown.
Our Forefathers would weep.
We, their tattered heirs,
kneel on shattered parchment.
Singing to our captors.
As we bleed…
waiting
for
hatred
to
starve
itself.
And the few, fat with coin, howl with glee.
Yet beneath the wreckage,
the voice of the people rises…
raw, ragged, roaring…
splintering the silence with our cry…
“United We Stand!”
Thank you for sharing in your time to read some of my poetry. I write as a part of my healing journey. I share in the hopes it may lighten the load for fellow travelers along their own soul-filled journey.
Claps, highlights, and comments are digital sunshine.
Peace.
For more stories about how politics and patriarchy effect the value systems of the common people, follow Fourth Wave. Have you got a story, essay, or poem that focuses on women or other disempowered groups? Submit to the Wave!
