You unnamed hoarders closing borders and giving orders.
You worked for your keep, sowed so you reap, leaving us in the deep.
Entitlement bred from “earned” independence, craving reverence.
Tax deductions for all your charity, you’re no rarity, just another parody.
The Poor aren’t on the list, they don’t exist, and you beat them down if they resist.
Money isn’t happiness but you don’t share, wouldn’t dare, and try not to care.
Maybe you don’t.
Leaving a Legacy for your kin, (embracing)dodging sin, and living to win.
From those paycheck to paycheck or living on a luxury yacht deck.
Nothing of worth to say yet you ramble all day about not getting it your way.
Too disgruntled to know what you got, much gets left to rot because you overbought.
You know who.
Gluttonous without even realizing, so many options it’s paralyzing and tantalizing.
Seems cheap but it’s one meal, buy to make your own and the savings are real.
You’re not helping another soul, it’s not your role, not without some kind of toll.
Talk peace and make war, shop at a big-box store, yet still believe you’ve a compassionate core.
So blind to others plight, skewed perceptions of wrong and right with little hope in sight.
|| another-proser ||