We are men. We know pain,
Which we freely acknowledge,
Yet we don’t complain.
It isn’t the pain that aggrieves.
It’s the unfairness
From those who deceive us.
Hypocrites all, they try to fool us
With improvised news,
With which they would school us.
They haven’t an ethos they would defend
Unless it’s that destiny decrees they hold the hill,
Even if that means crushing those below.
Winners keep losers poor and in debt.
And as they drown push them deeper
until they sputter, “I can’t breathe.”
Winners need losers in order to win.
So brainwash some. Impoverish many.
Murder a few. But never admit.
You’re no better than they.