When Dictators Run Nations



Aside dispensation of truckload troubles always
Aside disease, disabilities and overrun graves
Lives are lived in ambit of dreads and anxiety
That even at shade in deserts or safety of caves
Ones voices are shackled by the constant fear
Of battering booths out to beat and scotch
Thoughts of dissent, or cacophony of no praise
With weeps that sing like boiling kettle; that
Spit venoms, peeling and engraving coverings
That draw shrilly cries like from hissing furnace
Truly horrific is earshot of it: inconceivable, yes
Yet none who has not lived such vile impunity
Can imagine, in fact, the blessed relief of being
Alive and living in liberty; in free willed habitation

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