Baskadia

Mute when to cry, talk when to scream

this mark the foundation of the tyranny threat.

We leap before we look, whereas we are to look before we leap,

We loan out our power because of little chin-chin,

While trying to get it back by shouting.

Congruity is a problem to some extent,

we tend to agree, while flames is settled under our skirt.

We mourned change within ourselves,

but keep silence when we set our eyes on hot iron,

while demons continue with their lifestyles.

Portion design for dozen were given to hundreds,

while we all hope on pattern of rulling

not knowing it's not the rulling but the system.

It's not their fault we create it for them,

We open our eyes, yet complaining of bad sight.

They are part of us, we carry same blood.

Those are the excuses, when a move for liberation is approaching,

cheering is now part of our strength, but it only happens when there's herculean work with little hands.

They know our weaken point, which is comestibles.

Whenever our power is needed, they pay for it,

while we surfer for the transformation in our agenda

It's not their fault, we made the demons,

We mutually trade out the strength, but distinctly trying to get it back.

Alas! They are, yes! They are the monster we made.