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How Dirty the Politics Can Be?

With all the liberty and Pride
As if the earth and sky are under his hand
As if the surroundings are all by his side
As if he has all the rights under him
He walks the streets with head held high
Alleviates the pain and heals the wounded
With Reverberating voice and  little sigh
A roaring rains of rekindled hopes instills the crowd

The hero comes with such wit and wag
Everyone around is thrilled and awed
By his charisma and the efficacious promise tag
A second thought is far from their cerebrum

Successful now; a chair he get of his own
He forgets the smiles and the hope he imparted
As some people change with chair, so is he
He becomes greedy and self-centered instead

As the hand of clock clicks near
He suddenly wakes from his slumber
Get into the playing filed of blame game
And into the jungles of lame excuses
He is hardly wrong or ashamed

Like the oxen that looks back to how much is plowed
He rewinds every bit of change to his credit
For another term, he demands or even beg
And now power, perks and purse is the sole weapon
In luring to his another sophisticated chair
A chair, that will comfort only him self
And rot the floor that supports and suffer.

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