Power in the Wrong Hands

Power in the Wrong Hands

They speak of peace with lies in tongues

while oiling wheels of loaded guns

their fingers twitch on coded keys

that hum with silent guarantees

A flash, a flame, a blinding light

the world reduced in black and white

no side to win, no ground to claim—

just ash that doesn’t speak a name

A man in gold, with ego fed

claims he alone can raise the dead

yet fans the fire with every breath

that marches millions close to death

He points and grins, the cameras roll

while silence eats another soul

a crowd applauds, some shake with fear

for Armageddon hovers near

What power bends the world to peace—

the steady hand, or mad caprice?

A button pressed, a dare, a boast

and cities vanish like a ghost

We ask not just of him, but all

who rise on pride and let men fall

whose treaties tear, whose triggers gleam

who sell us safety in a dream

The truth is this: the loudest voice

may never speak the wisest choice

and war, once lit, will not obey

the one who thinks he holds the day