Hammer strikes on blood-warm steel,
Forging tools that maim and kill.
Brainwashed hands pursue their skill,
Learned not of choice, but silent will.
And solemn now his heart lies still,
For what he forged a life shall spill.
Yet dare not weep or dare reveal,
Or starve without another meal.
Sickle swings to harvest grain,
Yet still the poor cry out in pain.
Consumption leaves a lasting stain;
Children fade, and mothers strain.
Elders limp through hunger’s chain,
Labor lost, dismissed again,
Branded vile in freedom’s name,
As truth is cast into the flame.
Brother slays brother in the night,
While tyrants grin beyond our sight.
Civilians search for hope, for light,
While kings grow fat off fear and fright.
But towers fall, and hearts ignite;
The meek arose with sacred right,
To cast down power’s pompous height,
And strike the vipers mid their bite.
Let cowards swing as the church bells ring,
Their thrones undone by what truth brings.
Now laymen dance in golden spring,
And wives with joy forever cling.
No more do men in bloodlines sing,
True freedom is a boundless thing,
When all recall, in sacred ring:
We are the crown… and there are no kings.
ImpChimp Art 