Locked up in four edged container
Kept mouth-shut while others speak
Self-opinion rot in our brains
Treated no better than beast of burden

Aid to my brother feels painful
Overwhelmed with jealousy
Tribal brouhaha eating us gradually
Yet, charity begins at home they say

Locked up in ambiance
Quiet we were not used to
Everything little, imported; even lives
Just to get fat

Forced to dance to inaudible music
Real madness, I call this
Guilty ones given to men in black; yet, freed
Innocents locked up in cages for fifty years
Madness compounded,  I call this

After promises of heavens
Sweet national cake's being eaten alone
He who has no big brother
Seems likely to starve of it altogether