The Vote Wasted

The best of men have secrets,
ones that they never tell.
They speak only to the devil,
When he greets them warm in hell.
Yet here reigns one so cunning,
He speaks clearly to your face.
The evil he will do to you,
as you greet him in embrace.
How has he managed such a feat,
To swindle all so well?
He stole the key to Heaven,
And picked the lock to hell.
You shook his hand,
You gave him praise,
You cast your vote,
He changed his ways.
To whom now holds the office key?
'Tis not true democracy!

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem