I could save you
From staring at a nothing all day
Were my arms stronger
My will resolute,
But then, you tired, you poor,
You huddled masses
Would not stand on your own two feet.
Freedom can be sold
To the highest bidder
And rented to whatever lord
Of our choosing,
We have dominion over ourselves,
Both master and slave.
Freely we withhold
Our hands to our mouths,
Those righteous tokens
That engorge our pockets
But deprive our stomachs
The sustenance and dignity
Attested to by endless
Epics, sagas, and eddas of
Those proper kings
Filling their mouths with mantras
About heroes becoming heroes
By making others small.
Who am I
To deprive you of the chance
Of fighting or failing
At the hands of global giants?
Who am I
To stall your righteous war
Of material enrichment
By laying down arm?
There I risk being
But another neck
To be stepped upon.