The Rich Grew Rich Robbing the Pauper
The poor die young the rich live on
The Rich Grew Rich Robbing the Pauper
They took his coin with quiet smiles,
Cloaked in silk and clever wiles.
He begged for mercy, none was shown,
They bought the world with what he’d known.
Each trade, each theft, a steady beat,
The sound of riches, none discreet.
The pauper’s last pound, a slip of skin,
A weightless thing that kept him pinned.
The rich grew fat on endless greed,
Feeding off the hunger they’d conceived.
They counted gold, not souls they’ve bled,
The pauper’s worth was lost and dead.
And as they climbed, he sank below,
A shadowed grave they’d never know.
The weight of poverty, the cost of pride,
The rich are rich, and life’s a bitch.
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❤️
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Comments (2)
Very deep and great voice
How about that a true-life poem. Good work.