As if they were gods

They rule us as if they were the gods’ only chosen, their voices thundering above truth, their power written in arrogance, their greed disguised as leadership. They deplete everything we have— our land, our labor, our hope— and still demand that we call them saviors. We feed them with our sweat, and they repay us with hunger. They detain us as if they are above the law, forgetting that justice was meant for all, not just for those with titles and thrones. In their world, laws are no longer principles— they are bedtime stories for the poor. The courts? Just theatres with broken curtains, where truth plays a role it never gets paid for. Judges and police— once meant to protect— now dance to the rhythm of power, wearing masks of dignity while mocking the very people they swore to serve. We live under their shadows, watching freedom fade into fiction. Our cries echo through their palaces, but they only hear applause. Yet one day— when the earth grows tired of their weight, and the people rise from silence like thunder— they will remember: they were never gods, just men who mistook fear for loyalty.