The latest, and most heart wrenching  buzzword,
Oh, whence art thine mercy gone, dear Lord?
In every story all shades of this word greets the eye,
In circumstances of multiple array the people die;

The children of state have become dispensable,
Daily losing our young brains,
The government of state no longer dependable,
Every time rhetoricising empty refrains;

Dear heaven, kindly hear our prayer,
Please, in timely manner,
Before our candles are snuffed out,
Untimely, in gruesome manner!

Pray that the sun rises in the east,
And pray, too, that the earth spins along its axis,
Make supplications that the moon shines at night,
And intercede on behalf of many rats in the sewers;

Here we are, people of state,
Vagabonds in high places have come again,
Pulling the chord of our collective mentality,
Yanking the chain of our divisive idiosyncrasies;

For many, many seasons they have harvested,
Fruits borne by the motherland,
Furnished their illicit barns with treasures of state,
Fueled their desires with the blood of the children;

Yet a time comes when the seas will roar in tempestuous rage,
The four winds cry out in deafening anger,
Night and day both refuse to do their bidding,
The earth refuse to stomach the wickedness of  their inhumane abominations;

Not too long, oh brethren,
The time is dearly nigh,
That the shackles of our backwardness,
Will turn into tools for our deserved happiness.

And what do you do when it all ends in defeat,
And there is no room for retreat,
And the heavens will offer no helping,
And everything comes down to nothing?

So she changed tactic,
Rather than engage in fisticuffs,
She allowed her mascara flow into it,
Taking all her emotions downhill;

And from there all defenses shrunk,
The room fell silent, you could hear an atom rub itself,
Done acting her part like a diva,
Everyone took turns blaming one another.

She was a gift to phallus,
Taking the member wherever,
Eating, swallowing, giving head,
And in the end, impaling on sweet ecstasy.

And when the two forces locked hands,
Doomsday clocks rolled back many seconds,
On neutral ground both looked not out of place,
As many wondered what it meant, this phase;

The earth went on along its own axis,
The sun greeting the morning from the east,
Surely the stars will twinkle  tonight,
And the moon offering its cold bright light.

So, I find sob stories quite the act,
Delivered with so much tact,
Designed to appeal to quick emotions,
Salted by undercurrents of milky simulations.