We Are Victims

We are victims Tied with common fetters Loosed in thoughts of varied choices and desires Loosely searching to make ends meet: The meeting at this spot, Either to go or stay, is a choice. We are victims Of the policies of pain Emitted to drive us crazy, We are on the street , though not crazy. Destroying our common patrimony. In futility, our sweat squeezed and Mixed with our hot blood, Spilled on the street’ The rampage against the policies that police our lives. We are victims Caught in the web Of a cruel nation Piloted by scoundrels The apostles of destruction Who roused our emotions, Taking the only broken cup Left for us to scoop The dirty water in the pond: The beggar’s choice! Out of pain, we have heaped mud To cover the pond. Yes, we are victims. Our pain boldly inscribed on our skin Our thick skin, the archive of servitude . And every effort to initiate freedom, The beginning of futility. We are pushed to the wall, The dog must bark. While it barks, Its kennel is sacred. Let us not destroy each other, our lots and more. Let us not engage the street to loot, Though we remonstrate , Let’s not pull down our commonwealth, The acreages of government, They belong to us. We are victims of a beautiful nation stressed with stench politicking.