What good’s freedom
If you cant have your say?
It’s a governmental compass
That points the wrong way.

What good belief
If you still go to hell?
It’s a democratic bucket
In a waterless well.

What good is speaking
If you never meant what you said?
It’s the policeman’s daughter
In the Prime Ministers bed.

What goods money
If it can’t buy you love?
It’s the hand on an angel
In the gunman’s glove.

What goods a blade
If it can’t cut you free?
It is the public eye
That’s too stoned to see.

What good’s discipline
If it makes us wild?
It’s a pacifistic flick-knife
In the hand of a child.

What goods a poem
If it goes unread?
It’s a caged wild animal
That’s better off dead.

Touche!

Well, perhaps this did go unread, but it is back on the board, now.
Patience, my friend, patience.

Blessed Be!
Aiyana