Thrones of Hollow Gold

They argue beneath bright banners,

Smiling teeth, rehearsed applause.

Hands raised high for cameras,

While truth is bent into laws.

They fight for chairs, not futures,

For titles dressed as fate.

Power becomes their only prayer,

And people merely weigh.

Promises spill like cheap perfume,

Sweet for a fleeting hour.

Once elected, words decay,

Replaced by thirst for power.

Behind closed doors, ink is sold,

Votes traded for a name.

Briefcases speak louder than hunger,

And corruption wears no shame.

Children wait in broken schools,

Hospitals beg for light.

But leaders feast on stolen wealth

And sleep untouched by night.

They shake hands over wounded lands,

Divide the poor with lies.

Teach neighbors how to hate each other,

So no one questions why.

Their minds grow rich and rotten,

Fed by gold and pride.

Empathy is the first to die

When greed sits by their side.

The people chant, then slowly fade,

Reduced to polling charts.

Human lives become statistics,

Not beating, breathing hearts.

Yet somewhere anger learns to speak,

A quiet, rising sound.

Truth walks barefoot through the crowd,

Unbought, unbowed, unbound.

One day, the thrones of hollow gold

It will crack beneath their weight.

For power stolen from the people

Always arrives too late.

And when the dust of lies has cleared,

History will remind:

No crown survives forever

On a rotten, heartless mind.