A hole in the table of kings

Only a flash of light can expose the darkest deeds...

They taste the feast of freedom,
They rule the most and least of our kingdom,
They are the pioneers of great wisdom.
High is their title,
Honour they receive,
Rulers who are busy for evil and for good they are idle,
Multitudes they deceive.
Yet they are our kings,
Poverty and misery fills our kingdom,
While they enrich themselves with all the nation brings.
We weep on the altar of Gideon!
Gold,silver,ivory embrace their closets,
While rags,stones and earth clings unto the brethren of the land,
Our faces are pushed to the mud,our kings have brought penury at its closest.
We are all led by their kleptomanic hand.
These corrupt toady fellows,
With the now faded manifestos,they bring new agendas;
To loot,kill and satisfy their greedy tongues of hollows.
Behold,our land is at table with deceivers!

So rare a royal invitation to a royal dinner,
Little did we think as low as peasants,we would sit hand in hand with our royal kings,
We whose stomachs have wrinkled and cheeks thinner,
Our kings we thought, have called to feed us with food and drinks.
With bony smiles we sight their friendly faces as they welcome us,their subjects,
Could this be their newest reform?
Could this be a new era of kings?
The atmosphere was lenient and perfect,
The walls smelled of cold steam,
We could feel our feet hugging the cold as our thick blue eyes project,
This is like a child's dream.
They smiled and welcomed us with bowed hearts,
While our body and soul draws apart,
Searching for their own refinement.
Then a sudden and still air filled our confinement,
Could this be our messiah perform?
Could this be a sign of good things?
In a speed like the heavy rush of the sands in our deserty stomach,
We dug into the enticing bowl of meal before us;
The pleasure stricken meal for just a monarch.
The once filled bowl;strangely empty,now stares at us.
Behold,this looks like a mirage!
Minutes of dead silence hovers round the room,
Suddenly,we hear hoots of a nightingale's entourage,
Our moon of hope,soon turns out to be our doom,
So........
We sit at table with the kings,
Both great,small we are served,
On the wood,the food clings.
We all sat to eat,eat that which is served,
But behold,we are robbed empty,
This sight is gory and hefty,
As the nightingale sings,light is born as the curtains shift,
They reveal,behold,a hole in the table of kings...