This poem is for that lion,
Who has been coronated to be king over its kind.
But the king is now a hunter,
She stalks innocent souls,
For her own selfish goal.
She who is created to be a mentor
Has her chants glued to the hearts of her followers
For like folklore, they retell her fairy tale each day at the set of the sun.
This poem is for that tiger,
Who has been naturally endowed with a tooth to speak the truth
But refuses to say a word.
This poem is for treacherous voters,
Those who drop their sword at the sight of paper,
Those who auction their future at the ATM stand
That noucy thing in heartland.
This poem is for patriots.
Loyal voters, men who see their future in a green card.
This poem is for a virgin land
It is for those who will make use of their naturally given tooth
It is for men and women who will courageously speak the truth.