Dictators can smell
Your innocent soul like a dog
Without you noticing it,
And sell it in the market
For the highest bid.
They sense your kindness, your quiet hope like a predator sensing weakness. They catch your gentle beliefs, your faith in fairness, and they smile, knowing they can twist it. They donāt need your permission to slip into the cracks, where your trust lies open and unguarded.
You donāt see it, but they do: your honesty, your dreams for something better, turned into fuel for their ambitions. They measure the worth of your heart, your ideals, like items at an auction, whispering away the things you hold dear for the highest bid. Each piece of your innocence is chipped away, sold to strengthen their power, to tighten their grip.
It feels personal because it is your goodness is currency in their hands, a quiet power they reshape for their gain. They are monstrously hungry for their wants and desires.
Every piece of trust you give, every bit of faith, they turn into bricks for walls that close you out, separating you from the world you thought you were building together. They weave your dreams into something unrecognizable, bending them to fit their needs, not yours.