A throne has been built
by the poor of this land
in one accord they uplifted one
as a head
beneath his feet they thramble
around him they all gathers
looking up to him for provision and protection
but in return he feeds them with fear and tears,
pain and affliction,
death and sorrow.
wearing the crown of brutality on his head
like the scavenger
a crown been washed in the blood of vengeance and hatred
yet, resting his feet on the back of those
who seek justice.
voices arising for question
what kind are you?
a king without wisdom is like an empty vessel
for a wise king roars the voice of justice and truth and the bad egg be removed from the basket.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem