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Growing restlessness, a deep sense of unease

A feeling of futile hope, which no words can appease


Disbelief that once again we are observers of our own fate

Deep fear that will not abate, for futures we cannot create


Our conscience ahead of our voices subdued

In silence, yet again, buried guilt is imbued


For when will we awaken and understand

That all this suffering is for our riches not sand


When will we learn that submission is for the weak

And that silence will always be the ploy of the meek


We sit and debate as strategies are formed

And watch in horror as their executions unfold


Forever played as pawns of no value

Our vision derided by a sense of déjà vu

 
As events unfold like a Shakespearean tragedy

I shudder at the farce our enduring legacy


Inevitably we embrace outside interference

Expediently rushing to provide unhindered clearance


In frustration we analyze the double standards and fake media

Yet allow them free access to generate mass hysteria


How else can we master the art of hypocrisy?

Than by yielding in deference to all this duplicity


Double edged swords on which nations are maimed regardless

And the foregone conclusion that we only have permission to regress.