Poetry: The Fall of the Republic

The Fall of the Republic

By a lost & recovering American

Once, the land of dreams stood tall,
A beacon bright for one and all,
Where voices roared in freedom’s name,
And justice burned with steady flame.

But whispers crept through circuits wide,
Where truth and lies could now collide,
A silent hand began to steer,
A shadow rising, drawing near.

The screens that once gave open voice,
Now echoed only hollow choice,
In every post, a seed was sown,
A nation’s heart, now overthrown.

An oligarch, both rich and sly,
Puppeteered with a quiet sigh,
Through algorithms, dark and deep,
They spun the web where minds would sleep.

The people, once with voices loud,
Became a drifting, silent crowd,
Captive to the lies they fed,
Their freedom lost, their spirits dead.

The leader rose, a tyrant’s face,
While citizens sat in their place,
For fear, for comfort, for the show,
Allowed the chains of rule to grow.

Now fractured lies and fractured truth,
Divide the old, forsake the youth,
And from the ashes, rise the flame—
A nation’s fall, a shattered name.

Yet still the screens glow through the night,
A reminder of lost democratic light,
For once the voices were their own,
But now they scream, alone, unknown.

America, in ruin’s grip,
Shall pay the price for this lost trip,
When voices chose to close their ears,
And let an oligarch sow their fears.