Expensive Promises And Empty Stomachs

Son,
I have been robbed of choice,
They have made my basic need privileges I can only drool over,
Prices played with like a tennis ball,
And made a playground of word play,
Day after day I see them escalate
And now all I can do is joke about it and hope.

Son,
When they shouted from roof tops about better lives,
I almost broke my leg on the queue to vote them in,
Now my heart is broken and my country broke,
They gave me shiny railways and fast services,
And forgot about droughts and floods,
Health matters came third and education lay stale,
Then behind the scenes they let my tax evaporate
In broad daylight behind glass shields,
Out of reach but showcased for all to see,
Now my country cries in debt and shame.

Son,
They promised rigorous authentic measures
Yet I see recurrent names in elevated chairs,
Son, my sweat drops to the dry ground,
The same ground where my harvest lays ground by worms,
Son, they will come to you with humble voices,
They will promise you a heaven,
They will rant about change while ignoring inevitable factors,
They will quote great men from the past and polish their tongues,
They will done Angelic feathers and let you pluck a few,
They will make you hail them then pay you half a dollar,
Then when you give them a chance,
They will bring their beds to parliament and dream of bigger seats,
They will stamp on their promises as they sip expensive tea,
They will share what they have with those they know,
And measure their successes with their waist size.
They will drive beasts that ignore potholes you evade,
They will paint their mansions in gold and fence your hut out,
They will fly overseas for minor bandage dressing,
While your son faints on dispensary queues,
Then they will tell you why your neighbor deserves hate.

Son,
Stay wise and ignore rants of those who done perfection,
Make your cent so you won't over depend on their expensive promises.
Son, be wise.