They fatten minds on poison sweet as lies,
Then dress our chains in words like “liberty”.
Each screen becomes a shrine we idolize,
While blood runs thin beneath democracy.
We choose between two hands that feed the same,
A dance rehearsed beneath a borrowed light.
They drink from wells we’re barred from even name,
And sell us pride for loss dressed up as right.
They write the wars, then lend us both the blade,
And call it fate when fire consumes the land.
We ask for peace, but only debts are paid,
And every dream burns clean inside their hand.
You think you’re free? Then look beneath the thread.
The strings are drawn. You move, and they are fed.
Liberty
© Copyright: Староминскаяя, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125060507009
Свидетельство о публикации №125060507009
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