Beneath the Stains

In a time where prideful ignorance reigns,
And truth lies dead, buried beneath the stains,
Of a propaganda whispered sweetly to the ear,
Guiding the masses, like lemurs, without fear.

The Pied Piper leads, a tune so sweet,
His words like honey, a deceptive treat,
And the simple people follow, blind leading blind,
To the depths of their folly, they're inclined.

They vote for agendas, against their own best interest,
Swayed by emotions, having their minds suppressed,
Lacking in reason, their thoughts controlled,
By the puppeteer's strings, their actions bold.

My cry, a plea, falls on deaf ears,
To stop and think, to quell their fears,
To listen to others, to see the truth,
To remove their darkened glasses, to become a sleuth.

But alas, they march, in a trance,
Led by their passions, in a dance,
Of folly and blindness, they're ensnared,
By the Pied Piper's tune, none are spared.

So I watch, with a heavy heart,
As the world falls apart,
In a time where prideful ignorance reigns,
And truth lies dead, beneath the stains.