He chants “My father!” night and day,
Yet schemes like thieves in shadows play.
He wears his glares in darkened halls,
And answers guilt with silken calls.
At night, he plots with suited friends,
By morning, virtue he pretends.
He preaches service, clean and grand,
While grabbing every inch of land.
In foreign brands from head to toe,
He talks of roots he doesn’t know.
He claims “We all!” with staged delight,
Then signs the deals alone at night.
Votes pour from the constituents,
But helps his hand-in-glove friends.
He feeds the press, he feeds the spin,
While locals starve outside his grin.
He kisses babies, bends for pics,
But hides behind his PR tricks.
He walks the slums when cameras flash,
Then dines in clubs on public cash.
Posters rise with every lie,
He sells them dreams he won't supply.
And when the polls are finally done,
He vanishes with what he’s won.
Oh, noble fraud in polished guise,
Your words are sweet, your truth—disguise.
But time will come, and masks will fall,
The crowd remembers, after all.
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