Nonchalant in their existence.
Cigarettes properly placed between fingers,
With postures slanted upwards toward dignity;
Floating among themselves,
Basking in privilege,
Yet secretly despising one another
And the wealth that has them all
Silver spoons gleam brightly from
The mouths of babes;
Blinding the common man,
Straddling the fiscal fence
In the middle,
From seeing the dirty, disgraceful taboo
Of flies in destitute eyes & vacant, desperate appetites.
Search the world and find
1,000 impoverished pair of hands for every rich man.
And the ratio is allowed
So that the odds towards maintaining wealth are more favorable.
The backs of the poor are adequate commodities
For cheap labor,
Who will continue to build up the
Collateral of nations.
Routed slaves and desperate immigrants
The contradictions of the world
Are horrid, indeed.