The People; The Sheep
What Society Looks Like Through the Lens of Poetry
A herd of sheep follow the leading men
Shepherds crooks grab them by their willingness
they are all but friends, Romans, countrymen
they will lend their ears blinded by finesse.
They will diminish any in their path
oh, this is the fickleness of the mass
They stomp and froth the mob is full of wrath
A burnt smell with the sound of broken glass.
Fickleness, why must you be persistent?
hear the silent screaming of the afraid
Some rise up to lead. Others stay distant
A clear side made, they are the bold and the brave.
Until like birds flying for the first time
they rise but barking dogs don’t bite
About the Creator
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