A real, random possibility does exist
That the people will one day soon seize the power.
And then, they’ll scratch their scraggly, cold collective head,
Lacking a clue what it is that they want to do.
More than a few will round up someone new to shoot,
Cheering as their bloody, bloated corpses collapse
Into the dust of the glorious brave new world.
Others will immediately start to revolt—
After all, that’s what revolutionaries do.
Most will shrug and go on about their dire business,
Wondering just what that damned fuss was all about.
Me? I’ll be over in the corner—taking notes.
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