full to the brim
filled with poly tricks
just a smoke screen
seeking a semblance of legitimacy
and many queue up to be fooled
just an expensive losing game
the losers can just become winners
there are spin doctors galore
heads they always win
tails they also always win
there could be another way out
could it ploughshares turned swords
perhaps an appeal to consciences
those consciences now trampled
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem