Your dark secrets might keep
while Tim Osman's asleep
since coercion tips steep
to stagger those who weep
when republics get choked
by operatives provoked
to snuff freedom while cloaked
behind handles revoked.
Beware the friends you find
while making up your mind
since institutes maligned
shall toss your prayers behind
as they plan their missions
of fascist renditions
while paper magicians
feed their greed ambitions.
So they hype and parade
the boogieman they made,
brandishing their crusade
until each mind's betrayed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem