by Nick Gisburne
Malicious men deliver a disease,
Assisted by the fortunes of the few.
Afflicted, sick, the people’s freedoms freeze.
Of all their sorrows, this is nothing new.
A remedy, not part of any plan,
Disrupts the grinding government machine:
Protected by a single, simple scan,
The powerless grow stronger, fitter, lean.
A crisis grips the cowering elite,
Their schemes, their shameful subterfuge, revealed,
But, sinking in a spiral of defeat,
They bring a twisted bargain to the field.
Bestowing all authority to rule,
They pull the strings of state behind their fool.
