"Our Votes will Count"

 

"Our Votes will Count"

The sugarcoated party slogans and their fattened promises,

The lies mingled with a drop of truth and the multiple posters that smear the faces of our streets,

The feigned smiles with a generic pose of hope, 

The crowd pulling campaigns and the brandishing of the magical party wands,

The quickly arranged sombre songs of hope with shameful dance steps to mesmerize the faithfuls,

Some standing transfixed in the scorching sun, other swaying their waists and stamping their feet on the dusty ground for paltry wraps of notes

While the big men hide in raised platforms smiling broadly.

It is the most coveted season,

In the life cycle of a state

When like a snake it should shed its old skin for a new look.

But here the new is old,

Same old faces,

Same old lies,

Same old weary promises,

Everything is old.

The hope locked in the PVC

Is simply the more you look, 

the less your wishes grow

Elections are done in the morning

And selections at night

They cling voraciously to power

Like blood-thirty parasites

But after every duel that leaves us with tired faces

The radio presenter reminds us that one day our votes will count.