Posted in Poetry


Where not long ago the land freed,
A melancholic, not believing without proof,
Without any proof to prove
Where to above knives are dull
Where knock of the gavel depends on money
Where votes determines everything
Where conscience fades
Where pitiful laughs of the ‘common’ sense
Supressed minority, dregs left
Bad is said good, good is said bad
Right is wrong, wrong is right
Forbidden became permissible,
according to the will.
Don’t understand? Seek and find. Don’t care? Be Self-conscious.
Dig further, fall farther.
By the time it happens, end of the world,
your fault.