I saw him fall to his knees,
crawl for mercy
.... from a self appointed god.
As a man drowning at sea,
exhausting all his energy swimming away from the visible shore
... for a straw to save him.
Damn him and his race!
He will get no quarter from his idol
... and no pity from me.
Cowards are the muck that we have to
tread through on our long march
... to freedom.
Labels: Cowards, Egypt, Poetry, Revolution