Stolen Hope

as I tiptoe to the wearied eyes of lullaby
I drink from a saddened sun to see
thorns of roses walk the podium
songs of dirge
sang across the streets
of filing stations across eerie land
hosting after-party inauguration

and I of salted skin
of wandering feet
wonder with my forlorn brood
where will we weep with wearied whiff
we were served

like a breath
8 years has passed wherein
our hearts were grilled and offered to
gods of men whose offsprings
made of gods too are decked in
what portends of gloom
made from darkened gods

what manner of hope is this?