Buzzing in unison for history's death,
But if tomorrow exhales its final breath,
At what cost will you pay for freedom's price?
For how long will you rise to the occasion?
When tomorrow treads towards the threads of fate,
โWhen has history ever been accurate?โ
They asked, while not pondering past the question.
Should we break free from chains of reality?
Or let fate lead where eternity awaits?
Confined within principles of flawed mandates,
For new earth pillars scorched in reverie.
Fourteen thousand, four hundred forty one days,
Time paced faster to find ourselves back to scratch,
The repercussion, when progress found its match,
Burning bridges of colors fading to grey.
Some painted towns red with promises they keep,
Purchasing respect for monetary gain,
Giving out wilted flowers from their campaign,
To benefit from the seats they ought to reap.
But seize each moment and plant your money trees,
Despite the dangers looming beneath the roots,
Crocodiles! They are lurking and in cahoots,
From the depths, munching as much as they would please.
Revolutions will not be televised,
They wore red and five stars with deceiving guile,
Trudging a heavy static march and a smile,
Chasing rainbows in presence they advertised.
Burrowed for lies, all for a slice in life,
Was the world in exchange worth the sacrifice?
There is one chance to change outcomes, who will rise?
Once it is within reach, who will lead in strife?
But go! Where chrysanthemums and dahlias grow,
Stroll down yellow brick roads for your piece of mind,
Move, while not leaving our history behind,
Forward, ablaze in glory of tomorrow.
Literary by Jordan Nathaniel Ros, Unibรช DCS
Graphics by Justin Salvatierra, Unibรช Artist
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