Daddy's Decay of Decorum
Corporations speak louder than the people… in back rooms where laws are carved.
They call him Daddy. The President… with that hollow grin, and voice that echoes like footsteps down a hallway you dread to walk. His cabinet kneels… lips full of sugar and fear; while the press writes it down like gospel. The name he gave himself. This mask he made for power. But he isn’t alone. Republicans nod along. A choir of cowards… disguised as patriots. Clutching their bibles and flags like weapons. And across the aisle, the old guard smiles thinly. Their silence bought by the same cold hands that count our losses in profit. Corporations speak louder than the people… in back rooms where laws are carved. Not for us. But for return on investment. And me? I remember what it’s like to love a country that doesn’t always love you back. What it’s like to watch those sworn to protect become shadows of the power they promised to protect against. This isn’t governance. It’s theater, an old script, where we’re always the ones made to bleed, so the powerful can play pretend. But grief is a compass, too. And somewhere, the people stir… We remember the way voices rise when they stop waiting to be rescued. We never needed a Daddy. We never needed their polished lies, their hollow hope, or their tired stage. We needed each other. We still do. And we’re still here… Breathing. Building. Tearing down old myths, brick by brittle brick… until something real can RISE!
Thank you for being here!