Chains of Oppression

The oppressors oppress,
The oppressed, in turn, suppress.
Each finds someone weaker to blame,
And so the chain stretches,
Unbroken, its reach fades into the haze of distance.

The peasant, oh peasant indeed,
Shortchanges his brother in desperate need.
The needy peasant, with burdens untold,
Vents his rage on his wife, her dreams sold.

The civil slave, arrogant at his desk,
Sits on a throne that does not exist.
He torments the worker, the breadwinner’s plea,
“Come back tomorrow; there’s no one to see.”
With a sly smile and a knowing glance,
He whispers, “A handshake might give you a chance.”

The slavers above, with chains unseen,
Bow to the lords of Westminster’s sheen.
They too were slaves, once held in thrall,
Now suppress hope with a well-dressed call.
With promises sweet, they blind our sight,
Making scholars act as though devoid of light.
Forgotten are their cries of need,
When salaries dangle, they bow and concede.

The boys in combat boots parade,
Joyless faces in khaki arrayed.
Quick to strike, to flog, to kill,
Bending the wayward to their will.
“Die!” they’d answer without refrain,
For the fatherland’s honor, in vain.

And so the chain tightens, link by link,
From rulers to peasants, all pushed to the brink.
A world where the oppressed rise to oppress,
And justice is drowned in the silence of distress.