Glass Houses

Disclaimer: this post was written months ago and was inspired by happenings in my school. It is not in any way related to present circumstances in the country. Thank you for reading.

They sit in their glass houses
And throw stones at us
They plan the trajectory, the arc, the throw
Devising new ways to torture us
Like prisoners in a foreign country

First they take away our rights to fight
Then they throw as hard as they can
While we sit, cry and suffer in silence
Too afraid for our lives to risk it
Who they say, will bell the cat

Pot-bellied men in suits
Stomachs full of foolish wisdom
Gradually, they take us back to the 19th century
When there were wars to be fought
And our children were malnourished and neglected

Our wives and mothers slaved over stoves
Struggled to buy the fuel to power it
While our fathers would sit on the balcony
Reading the papers
Planning a revolution

When our choices became theirs
And like sheep to the slaughter
Those who dared speak
Were quietened by death or the fear of it
When they took our choices and made it theirs

We are headed back there
Slowly, steadily happily
Better there, than dead
But what is life without freedom
Painful, oppressive existence.