Nowhere Left to Run

The politician plays victim
The willing poor pay his expense;
The sun spins around his world,
Making justice lose her sense.

The rhyme here is contrived,
Like the machinations of power;
The workers work to death,
The rich get richer by the hour.

Trees are hewn down in thousands,
Ground water will soon cease to flow;
And the intelligentsia keep mum,
Though they are all in the know.

Politics wields a flaming sword,
Darker than any Stygian abyss;
While religions hold the idiots in thrall,
Robbing every Eve of her kiss.

Free speech is throttled now,
Jingoism empowers the fools;
History and logic become
Embittered and useless tools.

The world teeters as it stays still
This mother too is given no choice;
So, we have nowhere left to run,
But in a maze, with no thought, sight, voice.