by the victors

Revolutions are bathed in blood,

In death, betrayals, and cruelty.

Yet, we often associate them with freedom,

The oppressed rising against the oppressors.

Built up over years of resentment and broken lives.

Finally able to make change and live.

Yet, so many are led by the wealthy, the rich,

The ones who hold power, and want more.

The ones willing to sacrifice average people,

Destroy lives, promise liberty, to get ahead.

Yet, we don’t think about the nobodies,

The nameless face we never knew,

Those who sacrificed everything,

They were me and you.

They were given hope,

That it won’t always be like this.

Then they win, against all odds,

But that oh so precious hope is crushed,

Ground into oblivion,

So that no one will even think of rising up again,

At least until there's no one who remembers,

Until someone hears a story,

One of long ago,

When the people had a revolution.

And were the victors against their foe.