Photo from Pixabay.com
the least of all, the least of these
these who scrape and toil for bread
bread to quench the hunger pangs
pangs of madness in their heads
heads that swirl with lies and fear
fear of what they do not know
know that when the Piper comes
comes he reaping what they’ve sowed
sowed the wrath of powerful greed
greed for what was never theirs
theirs to take, to spoil and use
use without a passing care
care for those who toil for bread
bread, day old, crumbs to sustain
sustain the lavish lusts of men
Men in power who use the least for gain
kat – 18 February 2017
(A Loop Poem)
like mercury colliding... 