Pseudo-Compassionate Sycophant
Where did it all go
The convictions, beliefs
Under a strangling ghostly hand
With long fingers and anger
In its pigment.
The government sycophant
Nods in times of shadow governments
Patriotic acts and murder.
I remember you were a boy
Sweet and innocent.
Then a teenager
Miserable but idealistic.
Then a young man
Cynical but hopeful.
Now you're forty
And you've gone
With the wind
That you once loved
Going through your
Brown hair.
You're sitting in
A lavish office
Signing papers for bribes.
What would your wife think
If she knew you paid for the lifestyle
With truth, justice
And blood?
While you spout about human rights
You're denying truth and trial.
This is your tribulation
You've failed.
Hypocrite.
A contest entry
- hypocrite by the atlantic.
2300 points, ended September 3, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Be helpful.
Comments
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I liked the whole piece overall, but I think it didn't live out its full potential. The ending could have been stronger and loess predictable (especially since this was once titled hypocrite, and it's the title of the contest). Nonetheless, it's still good and I think did justice to the prompt. Thanks for entering
Jeanette*~ -
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new title?
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