Poetry

Friday, 15 December 2023

dark gains

 We don't realize we have have fallen

And raised the demon of War

Through worshipping the money God

Our own souls have become poor

And in each untidy corner, forgotten

And left sore

A little bit of darkness grows

And creeps under the door

Ill-gotten gains and more

Ill-gotten gains

What blood money

Can put our dignity to shame

For out the other side of happenstance

The colours soon will drain

Showering on the heads of ambition

Ill-gotten gains.


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