Dharanidhar Adhikari
In halls of power, a comedy show,
Where shadows creep and egos grow,
Here stand our leaders, once so grand,
Now just puppets with cash in hand.
With silver tongues, they speak in jest,
Of how they’ll pass the ultimate test,
Trading honor for a shiny seat,
In a game where deceit tastes sweet.
They plant corrupted seeds with glee,
In the garden of hypocrisy,
Weaving webs with threads of lies,
“Oh, look at us, we’re just so wise!”
For every whisper from the oppressed,
A leader laughs, feeling blessed,
Choosing paths lined with golden gain,
Drowning out the symphony of pain.
In the garden of power, they dance and croon,
Under a very different moon,
Where truth’s light is a comedy script,
And integrity has long since slipped.
Yet hope, that old relentless hack,
Thinks courage is all we lack,
Dreaming of leaders, pure and bold,
A fairy tale, time and again told.
Oh, how we long for the break of dawn,
For leaders with more than their swindles on,
Guiding us with a torch of fake delight,
Into a future that’s just out of sight.
Let’s dream, indeed, and let’s jest,
For leaders walking in a vest,
Of light and honor, so they claim,
In a world where corruption is just a game.
So, raise the curtains, let the show begin,
Of leaders who swear they’ll never sin,
Serving with heart, or so they say,
In a world where truth has lost its way.
