CHAINED
What Country Is This?
What country is this, where silence buys the grave,
And words are crimes that beg for iron chains?
Where power strikes the weak it swore to save,
And truth once free now trembles bound in pains?
We built our hopes on law, on justice blind,
Yet see with open eyes her turned away.
The torch once passed to guide the lost and kind
Now lights the path where shadows rule the day.
Is this the soil where youth must bleed for speech?
Where questions cost more dearly than deceit?
Where arms that swore to guard instead outreach
To cage the heart and drag it to defeat?
Yet still we dream — for dream we must to mend —
A land where might shall learn to serve, not end.
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