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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