Anti-Chinese Of New Era

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They call themselves red, an edge of the flag, a symbol of loyalty.
But what they wave is no breeze of compassion, it is a blade.

Their voices drown out the truth, their stance is harder than suffering itself.
Every outburst of rage falls not on oppressors, but hammers the chest of those struggling to survive.

They love the nation, but not its people,
They defend the state, but loathe its citizens;
They chant Long live the motherland,
Yet forget that The motherland is made of lives.

So, red becomes a skin,
Wrapped around bones of indifference and a heart seething with hatred.

They are the anti-Chinese of new era,
Not in some distant land, but beside,
Speak no sarcasm, yet act in contradiction,
Expose no flaws, but silence every dissent.

They are the counterfeit of conviction, the hallucination of iron-blooded honor,
The silent flame cloaked in loyalty— burning the people it claims to serve.