Rebellion Poem by Ian Effendi

Man growls as the growing tyrant rages.
The wartorn streets have bloodied me
and as I am, both sides of the war
fight to survive.
Its awe-inspiring and godly: the people
they whimper,
they lash out.
They cry out in anger for the blood of the man.
And with my ears I hear the sound
Of a thousand marching west with the setting sun.
The moon arcs eastern over the blood-red fields.

Corruption and blasphemy, they shout,
A king of great evil and heresy.
It is I they speak of, they conspire against.
Do they not understand I only work for them.
But no, the ignorant are oft in the most bliss.
and as the shackles that way me down to the stocks.
I smirk in all my honor and glory.
And as Jesus was crucified for his people,
I will gladly be hanged, drawn, and quartered for mine own.
And the selfish lands of mine, my soul will surely roam.