Tis a funny little thing, selection, isn’t it?
Blessed with free will, we pick, we choose what we think is best
Or who we think can beat the rest
Selection, sans the S- election.

My sweet citizens, eager and keen
Exercising your democracy, after all it’s your right
But I have a question, please give some insight
This may sound a bit funny, forgive me in advance

Three years out of four, four years out of five
We exist soundly, quietly, flying under the same banner
In silent agreement, our mundane lives the same manner
Boasting a hive-mind-like unity, the near perfect community

There’s that one person, the oddball, the activist
Who drones on about the perceived issues, night and day
“Be quiet”, we scold, “you’re making noise”, we say
Because, anyway, we think, it’s not the time

Fast forward a few years, our oddball’s voice now hoarse
We see the nominations, the speeches, the posters- it’s go time!
The oddball, with reinforced energy, is now in their prime
We’re suddenly experts, pundits, each with an expert opinion

Now, I’m not politicking here, I hold no allegiance
I’m just a curious by-stander, so let me ask
Why is it that when someone thinks differently, you put them to task
You build walls, barricades against he who was once your friend

Neighbours become strangers, families separate
Those that once you did admire
Now become the subjects of your disdain and ire
The lines have been drawn, the stage has been set

Now, to someone like me
Call me misguided, lazy, lost even
I stand in the middle, none of this is a given
During all the noise, I look at you and ask

Do you know your candidate? Really? Okay
What about their team, their people, their strings in the background?
Oh now you wonder, you start to look around
Have you looked a little closer? Peered behind the mask?

You know your people, you show your undying support
But have you looked at them really, have you studied them both?
Maybe, just maybe, are they cut of the same cloth?
But on the outside, boast different colours, shapes and patterns?

These people you march, fight and die for
Live in comfort, and splendour and wealth so immense
So really,  you in your squalor, does it make sense?
That you take to the streets for someone you’ve never met

You proudly take up sides
To the streets you parade
It’s quite the impressive charade
After which you pack it up in your boxes

So, the circus is over, one of them has won
You rant, you  rage, they weren’t so different in the end
Life returns to normal, enemy goes back to being friend
It’s done for now, and you tell the oddball to shut it

So here I am, the lousy bystander
Scratching my head, it tickles my brain
In a few years’ time, we’ll be back at it again
My dear citizens, you never cease to amaze

Chiseche

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