Dictators

The dictators love their ideology,
But not a nation, for them a nation,
Is a workshop to do practical upon,
Their ideology, they kill hundreds of,
Innocent fellows, they held it glorious act
For making their nation a great, but in, 
Lust of ruling makes them insane,
They begin to grow like cactus in side,
But keep flowers on their tongue,
They make their life a secret and, 
Weave a cobweb of riddles around,
Them, they make the nation poor,  
 They raise the taxes but to gear,
Up their own progress, what they love
Not more than bone greedy dogs love,
They wear dresses new and newer,
Costly ornaments to lure their viewer,
They laugh when no emotions are so,
They keep high from nation their ego,
They show themselves young forever,
Emotions of lay man mostly nor care,