geeza

“Freedom!” they cried, as bombs lit the sky, “It’s not genocide—just cleansing, but why?” Mossad schemed shadows, the U.S. sent cash, While truth lay buried in Gaza’s ash. They said it’s surgical, precise, and clean, But blood doesn’t lie—it stains the unseen. Leaders feasted while the blockades grew, Ethics a joke, and the punchline? You. Corruption thrived where hope should reign, Ethnic cleansing—a rebrand of pain. Rights are debated, lives dismissed, Freedom’s just rhetoric—profit persists. “Freedom!” they cried, as Gaza burned bright, While Mossad played shadows in the dead of night. Drones hummed songs of calculated despair, Freedom’s for sale—but never gets there. The U.S. sent dollars, democracy’s call, Which lined the right pockets and built no wall. Leaders feasted, regimes stayed sly, Profits climbed high as children asked, “Why?” From Mossad’s whispers to Washington’s deal, The game was corruption, the spin surreal. Hope became rubble, resistance a brand, Freedom outsourced—war’s sleight of hand.