Ashes of Liberty

A cold wind howls through hollow streets,
Carrying whispers of power dressed in deceit.
The towers grow taller, casting shadows so deep,
Where the seeds of fear are sown to reap.

Chains rattle softly, though none can be seen,
Invisible binds in the land of the free.
The watchful eyes, perched high and still,
Marking homes, schools, factories to fill.

The clock strikes noon, yet darkness remains,
As panic paints faces, etched with disdain.
Children clutch dreams they can no longer hold,
As the air grows heavy, silent and cold.

The earth quakes not with nature's might,
But the boots of those who conquer the night.
Their whispers of justice a deafening roar,
Breaking lives at every door.

Oligarchs rule with invisible hands,
Binding the free with laws and demands.
What once was a beacon of hope and light,
Now burns in chaos, lost to the fight.

I watch it crumble, my homeland’s dream,
Its rivers of hope, now choking streams.
How does one save a nation in flame,
When power wears masks and shifts its name?

So I stand, just a soul, with pen in hand,
Writing of ashes, the fate of this land.
Perhaps these words, carried on wind,
Will remind the forgotten where freedom begins.