Democracies: A poem 

Your privileged choices are their double-edged sword 

You think you’re on the right path, but it’s not your road 

Your purpose is irrevocably lost in the dark of the woods 

There are designs for you made by the ones in the hoods 

These men in black have you spellbound with eloquent waxing 

The real issues are in the shredder, they’re only shadowboxing 

Their fashion is trousseau for nations, all propaganda about 

Their scripts are paper thin, but not transparent handouts 

You can’t throw a stone and hit the brick of an astute mind 

There’re the shepherded masses with blindfolds over their eyes 

Democracies are proud of the options; they don’t come up in arms 

Elections are held too holy; but are a beguiling homily of psalms 

You can’t tell, plainly, they are killing many birds with one stone 

They give you many rights, so how come you are left feeling alone? 

It takes a good deal longer than the stipulated term of four years… 

…for you to feel all that disgusting wax piling up in your ears