In the grand halls where whispers reign,
Power shifts like shadows in the night,
Promises made in veiled disdain,
Hearts swayed by illusions of might.
Leaders rise with thunderous applause,
Yet behind the curtain, the puppeteers lie,
Strings pulled by unseen claws,
As the common man wonders why.
The game of power, a treacherous dance,
Alliances formed, then swiftly broken,
Truth obscured by circumstance,
Words of peace, yet war is spoken.
In this theater of endless schemes,
The people’s voice, a distant cry,
For power in politics, it seems,
Is but a dream that flickers and dies.