She, Who Herself Is Democracy Poem by Rahman Henry

I know all the funeral practices and burial customs
Of my people, in respect of religions and ethnic groups

Hundreds of thousand years passed
And I had to go through uncountable funerals and burial

Those days of joy and grief
Never thrown me in a fix

But now, at a loss I am,
With these corpse of ethic, legitimacy and human rights
What to do?

How could I burn my greed
To turn your DEMOCRACY into DEMOCRAZY?
Which strategy could fulfill my lust for grasping all the powers?

O thou royal magician, come and free me
From this serpentine self-trap
Let me finish the mass-burial of negligible public opinion
Throughout my land
And adorn me crown forever as none but myself is democracy!