The Shine

The lower deck’s full,

Of people, with grimy faces.

Their eyes look dull,

In the gleam of fire walls.

The Gods that never Mull

Stare at us, chained in their frames.

They shall never help us,

For they are, to these men, mere slaves.

The lower deck’s full.

In the middle of growing infernos.

And the upper deck’s of rule,

From the ballots, 

But not from the principles,

They are the snakes in white,

To carnage us, our every right,

The lower deck’s full,

Of people, who built the roads,

Of people, who are real,

Of people, mine and yours,

The lower deck’s full,

I am here, with my comrades,

Fret not; we now chink this wall,

That impedes us to walk into progress.

-Aroon Che