Caste Your Lots Among the Stars
What are we?
A Darwin’s figment that eat its weak
In this pretense of principles,
Our humanity died in sleep.
Society we say we are,
Yet hollowed, rotten to the core.
Blinded in the light of our greed
For our own, we care no more.
Lives vanishes in sewers,
Cleaning our filth, for a little crumb.
All we feel is regret and loss,
Yet for action, we are numb.
We think sorrows can be bought
Recompense will buy their grief,
Compensation means compassion here,
Sympathy will be brief.
We are not wolves,
Their feeble, they devour.
Yet we are not humans
In the most needing of the hour.
Reckoning will be there,
Of our conscience so loathsome.
That day may be slow in arriving.
But for sure, it will come.
Tags:
Poetry