The Oppressor
#4 of Poetry
I'll be honest, I was particularly upset when I wrote this...
The Oppressor scorns,
And he never mourns.
He throws others in the flame,
Never knowing that he is the one to blame.
Flesh and blood,
It does not matter.
'Tis just another thing
Given to batter.
Is it possible,
In this song,
That the Oppressor
Could be wrong?
The Oppressor,
He will not and could not
Accept the new ideas
Even after his time of rot.
For he has no care,
No worries that he wishes to share,
Than to never think
What his child will bear.