Break the Wheel We Built
|
Dr Ranbir Laishram
We point at the throne,
blame shadows in the crown—
leaders we hoisted high with votes,
like prayers that go unheard.
Our own hands,
shaking with hope,
carved their scepters from our dreams—
only to kneel again,
feeding the system
that hands them back the power.
What a grand trick!
We vote for saviors, forge our chains.
They climb on promises of light,
but the wheel we built spins dark—
round and round,
crushing the hands that turn it.
Philosophers wept for this:
freedom's bitter joke,
choice twisted into a cage,
power laughing at us voters.
Look in the mirror, kin—
your face hangs on their palace walls.
We curse the crowned,
forget we held the coronation.
The system?
A snake we hatched,
coiling tighter with every vote.
Existential trap:
slaves to the ghosts we summoned.
But hear the wind's whisper—
break it!
Ease the wheel apart with eyes awake.
No more crowning tyrants from our clay.
Rise, slip the chain—
lead yourself,
or follow forever.
We point at the throne,
blame shadows in the crown—
leaders we hoisted high with votes,
like prayers that go unheard.
Our own hands,
shaking with hope,
carved their scepters from our dreams—
only to kneel again,
feeding the system
that hands them back the power.
What a grand trick!
We vote for saviors, forge our chains.
They climb on promises of light,
but the wheel we built spins dark—
round and round,
crushing the hands that turn it.
Philosophers wept for this:
freedom's bitter joke,
choice twisted into a cage,
power laughing at us voters.
Look in the mirror, kin—
your face hangs on their palace walls.
We curse the crowned,
forget we held the coronation.
The system?
A snake we hatched,
coiling tighter with every vote.
Existential trap:
slaves to the ghosts we summoned.
But hear the wind's whisper—
break it!
Ease the wheel apart with eyes awake.
No more crowning tyrants from our clay.
Rise, slip the chain—
lead yourself,
or follow forever.