They say
Fakes are in mad caves.
Are caves made doors
Crumbled open and laid?
Doesn't think clink clank,
Doomed,
Now, concrete floors.
And cleaning up messes
For their leaders...
Confesses.
Enjoy, cheaters.
Live in style for a while
With a few meeters.
Getting comfortable there,
Caught up in waves
At bay.
Is funny money
Splits three ways.
Thank you for reading!
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Copyright 2024 K.A. Smith
About the Creator
K.A. Smith
K. A. Smith – published author and poet with experience in architectural design. I try to bring love and life into every poem or story. I believe every piece of art is "effective" in some way. Please follow along, and share your thoughts.
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Comments (1)
Your poem brilliantly critiques the facade of power and deceit with striking imagery and rhythm