TYRANNICIDE

At the end
he saw them rush at him, seemingly
from nowhere and assumed
they had come to greet him
in celebration of his latest victory.
But they had no mercy, these turncoats;
no respect for his greatness,
as they stripped and tortured him
publicly.

What madness was this?
Had they forgotten who he was,
all he had done for them?
How he had risked his life
to seize power from a corrupt regime
in order to rebuild their country
brick by social brick
into a force to be reckoned with?
And he did it for them.
Surely they must see
that such independence has it's price:
that contrary views could not be tolerated,
that opposition must be eradicated
by whatever means necessary.
And fear was the only weapon
that was certain to control
a wealthy but unstable nation
like theirs...

But all they could see
were butchered kinsmen:
women, children - anyone
brave enough to challenge
the lies, treachery and broken promises
of a barbaric dictator, who
callously described such slaughter
as justifiable means.
And they'd finally had enough...

'What have I ever done to you?' he cried,
as he lay dying in the sweltering heat.
And a tearful young boy murmured,
'When they murdered my daddy,
you cheered...'