The Camel’s Coup

The camel’s in the tent now, sprawled wide with wicked grin,
It first slipped nose inside, then barged extra space within.
“Just a little more,” it said, “what harm can that do?”
But now it’s emboldened, bloated, demanding public view.

We used to plot and plan here, prepare for brighter days,
Now we’re pushed to the corners, shut down by angry gaze.
We had control, we thought, but the camel had a plan,
To convert our humble shelter into its own exclusive land.

Oh, the sting of politics, a game we thought we knew,
But the camel played us bitter, and now it’s we against you,
Standing on the sidelines, watching from afar,
As camels hold mock councils, and drive the fancy cars.

It’s time we leave this crowded tent and find another spot,
Where camels aren’t the bosses, and our dreams aren’t for naught.
We’ll build our new utopia, with walls a little higher,
Where we call the shots again, and fuel our inner fire.

But let’s not forget this lesson, in the circus of this state,
Where camels find their openings and peddle sneaky fate.
We’ll laugh at our own folly, and march with heads held high,
For in the end, dear friend, it’s us who will defy.