Time to take what’s given and ask for no more,
Fate has chosen its favourites
They’re just explorers of experience,
Shoved in shrunken clothes, smelly and troublesome,
That’s how ‘they’ are known.
Who allowed injustice’s iron fist,
To demolish the humble dignity of the poor,
To elevate the powerful,
To gauge democracy?
A system that has fallen apart from the original idea.
A whisper whispers like a serpent in the leaves.
“Life for many is so unkind,
Giving people are hard to find,
Give what you can, for a little act of kindness killed no man”.
A whisper, just an irk.
They cannot speak for they weep,
‘They’ are poor and this is their lives,
However the word slides ,
And nobody realises,
At the end death equalises.