You say it’s the pull

You say it’s the pull
Of our success and all
As you beat your chests
Over our worth.

But you Lords of Misrule
Have abused every tool
Just to serve yourselves
Bigger and first.

Paranoia obsessed
Dealing death and distress
You now hope will just
Simply reverse.

You proclaim that you care
But try hard not to share
Wringing greasy hands
While it gets worse.

How intolerable
To suggest that we’re full
And treat humankind
Like it’s a curse –

You too easy forget
All the push you beget
As you help to create
Hell on Earth.

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