A Dark Conclave

                                           
                                    In social media, a minority man dared speak,

His own ideas he'd post, mainstream thoughts critique

An immigrant, he thought he had freedom of speech

He hadn't realized the unwritten protocol he should never breach

 

The rulers conspired behind cloistered walls,

They saw in him danger; their tyrant’s call.

A cabal of shadows with power amassed,

Turned whispers of free thought to daggers cast.

 

“Look! He shows anger; he swerves past the lines,”

Circus of scoffers carved tales from mere signs.

With fabrications that flourished like weeds,

They spun him a villain from innocent seeds.

 

A 700-page tome on a life lived so small,

An absurdity penned by those holding pall.

Though rashness was but a fleeting endeavor,

Harm and intent lay unburdened forever.

 

Neighbors who knew him spoke stories true

Among them he labored and raised children too.

But under the enforcers' gaze, all warmth turned to cold;

Fearing their fate if his truth were told.

 

So they sent forth Dronehmer—harbinger dread,

To silence the voice that refused to be fed.

An average man cast as the enemy foul

In justice’s cloak lay a sinister scowl.



Jeffrey Dronemehr grinned with glee,

A reaper dark cloaked in apathy.

For every drone that sings its song,

A family weeps; brutality's throng.

Angry winds carry screams unseen,

Echoes of pain—the human machine.

 

And now this minority man must weather these storms conjured high, 

Beneath the vengeful drone ridden sky;

Yet still in dark corners his spirit ignites

Resilient threads woven through sleepless nights.


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