We In The Wee Hours Of The Night

When it was still dawn,
I heard a call,
“Arise! Lest we fall—”
It was from distance
But not too instant.

Calls should be answered
But this one met banters.
We, suddenly became an exaggerated irony;
It has been a while
Since the broom that represents we
Lost its rope in the wee of the night
When no eyes can behold the tyranny.

Darkness has filled the land.
In the dark, voices go bland:
The call has been stifled.
Now, everyone owns a corner
On the dark street where
Evil wields rifles.

When shall there be a dawn
That will expose the evils done
In the dark?
From what I see,
We are still in the wee
Hours of the night.

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