When the dust settles,
And the rain stops
These ants go back to work
Protecting the queen from all the mean,
This world may present
When the walls crumble they move for her whim
But a dictator at heart, she tosses her dead with the trash
Because that is all they are
Meaningless drones sent to protect the throne
No government cares for you or me
We are but worthy of mass graves and feces-soiled soil
Trash; for they have the power.
What are a few among many?
Life goes on, as you and me are stored away,
As just a cog in their scheme
Their leadership uses you until you are of use no longer
Then they throw you away- like garbage
For what are a few among many?
Unless you possess royal blood
You will have no grandeur
You will be forgotten- in the grand scheme of things
They have all the power for all of your work
When the dust settles
They go on saying, “What are a few among many?”