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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2066782
This a poem laments how a few capitalist or leaders sit on wealth that belong to all.
There on top,
The lords sit in control,
Taking everything;
Little and great,
Without a damn care;
For those below

The lowly sits lonely,
Watch, groan and grumble
With fruitless efforts,
Their hope skips,
Their will splits confused;
Wondering If they’ve a God?

Now I realized,
A few owns the world;
For if we all were heirs,
We should have a path to trek;
While the flies high above us;
From airport to airport

Yes, we should have a bicycle
While they flies in private jets
Or at least,
We should live in tents
While they in masons and duplets

We live in errors;
Too great to gladden a soul,
We live in errors;
Too great to still a fear
We live in errors;
Too shroud to be civilized

Oh lowly brothers;
Struggle on! Don’t give up!
Maybe one day,
You might belong to the few;
Then I shall know,
If you’ll remember the lowly;
—I mean the lowly brothers
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