Democracy is a sad chorus.
A melody becoming callous.
The lingering of livid lyrics...
a song that seems so sick.
Democracy is a naughty noise.
The vivid vulgarity in a voice.
An eruption of annoying echoes...
the beauty of a withered rose.
She is a poem with a sad theme.
Sorrow sails through the rhyme scheme.
Chaos strolls across all her lines...
sadness with a strong spine.
Democracy is a shadow of herself.
An abandoned book on a library shelf.
Dust and dirt in a desperate romance...
filth maintains a foul stance.
Apparently, she is sinking ship.
She has clearly lost her grip.
Soonest, she'll exit the stage...
the uncertainty of the next page.