A country with a poppy
Going Back in history
To the crimson silk of trade
Where darker pacts were made
The poppies bloomed in foreign fields
Its resin forged as wealth, as shields
A softened flower, with barbs concealed
The greed is what made the world yield
While poppies bloomed in that field
A country filled with poppies was forced to yield
Poppies, a hypocrisy
A symbol to be free
Yet oppressing those who seem to be
A stain like graffiti
Poppies bloomed where stories bled
A flower fed by those long dead
The riches drained
A country stained
This crimson stain
Causing timeless pain
A flower born from pain
Now sown in chains
A war of goods, a war of greed
And planted deep, a tiny seed