By JH Sayyar
The crowns they wear are forged from tears,
Their thrones are built on bones; no name;
Through blood they rule the passing years,
And gild their crimes beneath a saintly frame.
Will, when sharpened, gleams a brighter steel,
Than any sword their armies dare to wield;
A single heart that dares to break the seal
Can turn the tyrant’s fortress to a barren field
Here! No gilded law can cage a soul awake,
No wall can stand against the storm within;
The knife of will can make the empire quake,
And strip the pomp to show the rot and sin.
Rise, cut the cords that bind the people still
And crush all the rulers with the knife of will.
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