My dream
When I grow up,I'd like to be a political doctor
And go down in history books for unveiling the mistry of helping this ailing nation.
A nation so ill that the will of the people is no longer an issue
Where leaders shake hands and open their mouths to sign deals.without considering the people who live from hand to mouth for their daily meals
And the people embrace the manace
They fondly shout loudly and follow blindly
Like sheep led to the alter for offering
And end up in deep suffering
👁 6💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.