Photo by Hasan Almasi on Unsplash

A song, they say
you might hear on a day
if it's sunny enough
to clear away your bluff.

Listen closely, if you want to hear
but only if you have the strength to bear
the wind that bursts through your mind
and the pricking of tears fell to your hand.

A song sung for you
from those within the mew.
For your merriment, your glee
they were forced behind thee.

They don't whine nor do they bleat
yet makes you see the deceit
that made them your slaves
till they reached their graves.

Cut off their tongues, pluck out their eyes
it doesn't matter if you are not being nice
for that song won't stop for a thousand years
and will continue to spread across frontiers.

.    .    .