The Forgotten

You farmed your fields,
You raised your children,
You toiled.
You walked to the ballot box, elected a government.

The leaders democracy chose ,
Chased from the capital,
Retreated to safety,
Remain still, silent, chose peace.

When the throngs arrive,
Bangkok recoils.
When the throngs burn and riot,
The world passes their righteous judgement.

“Unruly peasants.”
“Anti-government protests”
What government?
They legitimize the regime that stole your country.

Your leaders surrender.
Red shirts folded up and put away,
You go home to toil,
Empty handed.

Behind you, in the distance,
Bangkok burns,
News cameras roll tape,
And when the fire goes out, the camera goes home.

You will farm your fields,
You will raise your children,
You will toil,
The ballot box, like you, will be forgotten.