Post by Alfred Elvis (@Demigrant001)

Whilst nobles feast with goblets raised on high,
The common soul doth ask but bread thereby.
With honeyed tongues they speak of fairer days,
Yet rig the game and praise their crooked ways.

No chains of iron bind the weary poor,
But silent laws that close each hopeful door.
The coin grows thin, the market knows despair,
Whilst favored hands divide the fattest share.

They sow men's fears and bid the masses fight,
That none may see who profits from the night.
Yet humble folk crave neither crown nor jet,
But honest toil and dues not stolen yet.

A level field, not favors from the throne,
That every man may reap what he hath sown.
Take heed, ye mighty, seated high above,
For power without justice lacketh love.

Empires have fallen, their glory turned to dust,
When greed was strength and gold outweighed all trust.
For history keeps account with patient eye;
Though riches fade, just echoes never die.

Hoard if thou wilt, and mock the lowly's cry—
Yet time remembers, and truth doth testify.
For greed hath but a season, brief and small;
But justice, once awakened, outlives all.

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