Fat Cats Who Run Our Country
Fat cats get fatter
on silver-plated lies,
spinning silk from the throats
of the ones they despise.
Their pockets swell
with stolen bread—
while children sleep
in homes of dread.
The cold bites deeper
when truth is thin,
and justice
is a game they rig to win.
They toast to the suffering
behind guarded doors,
feasting on the silence
of the broke and ignored.
They sell us promises
cut from rot,
dripping with venom—
but truth, they forgot.
We see them,
cloaked in polished deceit,
suits sharp as knives,
with hands unclean.
Fat cats get fatter,
the governments rule.
Only one loser—
the poor man.
That’s their rule.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
Keep reading
More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (4)
In such few words of you have described the world in many facets of living. Good job,
Well-wrought! To be perfectly and unapologetically vulgar about it: even the fat cats are puppets with hands up their asses. If people fully understood the depth of the depravity which hides behind the veil of politricks, the world would burn overnight. But there are forces of good. The deal with the devil is never on the level. Even the least seasoned gambler knows that in the end the house always wins!
woah this one really hits. the lines cut deep and feel too real sometimes. that “feasting on the silence” part? yeah… felt that. powerful stuff. thanks for putting this out there 👏
Amazing Facts