HOPE OR ROPE

Many years of democrazy
Have gone by,
The nation still at her crawling stage, 
Staging painful comedies. 

Our leaders are clowns, 
Who entertain the led, 
With sufferings and laughters, 
Each passing day. 

Each transition of power, 
Is like from sickness to death, 
We are all living deads, 
Waiting for our funerals. 

Daily many die of heart aches 
Over hopeless hope,
Hunger dwells in many homes, 
Sufferings, the people's clothes.

Our hope in despair, 
Has sent many home, 
Rope the instrument 
of their homegoing.

Breadwinners are deadwinners,
Their sufferings heavier than sins, 
The living keeps hoping;
While many die of frustration 
And empty stomachs.