Hey there rich
Costume Sticks of gold isnt enough for you to see the pitch
Saten stories written through generations of pain so stop the grip
Lips puckered up like camouflage surroundings that we trust but they dont fit
Im kicking dust...
For who ever feels the urge to fuss
Treachery stains that seem to leave the gains
Under the conditions of others pain and
Misery
The luck
Trust the process they said
Topless drops of objects flowing in their head
With
popping tops of beer mislead
The Ideas
Enough said
pledge the money that you get burns into a mist
A list of twisted people that society may feel to kiss
Sharing the same experiences but the rich isnt the truth to miss
Ditched old plans til the world blows up in a split
Covid had a list
Of course
Leaving me with empty feelings
Of all the hungry people you claim isnt worth
The United states of pain fighting to get on this turf
Draining my money to fufill a killed animals mane or
Stepping on the remains of a hungry child you inhumane
God has you
Doing the same thing once again
But the less is called insane
Teach me how to be like you
Lie and loot,
count us out to make us mute
Think of us as less, trash us down the shoot
Or
Better yet the people that you shoot
Wait, wait
thats a different story too
About the Creator
Lester Baroody
Welcome everyone, I would first like to say thank you very much for visiting my page and allowing my unique way of expressing myself sway you in a pool of thoughts
-with the help of Dieu, anything is possible
-Chronique of a poet

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