Fortunes Frayed
In the shrouded shadows of skyscrapers sky-high,
Wealth whispers its wonders, worn as a sly sigh.
On streets split by starkness, starkly arrayed,
Fortunes and famines, fervently frayed.
Beneath the shineing glass, the gilded gate,
Poverty ponders, prods, and permeates.
The city’s sinew, silently strained,
Between opulence ordained and lives pained.
Riches rattle in rooms of the revered,
While the wretched reach out, rarely revered.
Wealth’s walls wail a woeful, warring tune,
Equality eclipsed, under a covetous moon.
High in their havens, the haves hold their hordes,
Guarding gains while the gaunt grope in cords.
Below, the have-nots, haggling for hope,
In the scraps of the city, they scrounge and they slope.
Coins clash in the counting, a cold, callous sound,
As pennies for the poor plummet, pound by pound.
The disparity deepens, delves into the dirt,
Where want and waste woefully flirt.
Riches rattle in rooms of the revered,
While the wretched reach out, rarely revered.
Wealth’s walls wail a woeful, warring tune,
Equality eclipsed, under a covetous moon.
Markets march on, their mantras resound,
In plush palaces where the plush profoundly abound.
Yet the alleys ache with the cries of the curt,
Where dreams die daily, and despair does flirt.
The echoes of equity, ever so slight,
Struggle to be heard over gold shineing bright.
In the fight for fairness, the feeble find fears,
Muffled by the monied, their moans no one hears.
Riches rattle in rooms of the revered,
While the wretched reach out, rarely revered.
Wealth’s walls wail a woeful, warring tune,
Equality eclipsed, under a covetous moon.
So we sing of the conflict, the separation seen,
A call to combat the corrupt and the eager.
For in the shadows of affluence, adversity is sown,
Where the lines of wealth are wickedly, willfully drawn.
In the shrouded shadows of skyscrapers sky-high,
Wealth whispers its wonders, worn as a sly sigh.
On streets split by starkness, starkly arrayed,
Fortunes and famines, fervently frayed.
Beneath the shineing glass, the gilded gate,
Poverty ponders, prods, and permeates.
The city’s sinew, silently strained,
Between opulence ordained and lives pained.
Riches rattle in rooms of the revered,
While the wretched reach out, rarely revered.
Wealth’s walls wail a woeful, warring tune,
Equality eclipsed, under a covetous moon.
High in their havens, the haves hold their hordes,
Guarding gains while the gaunt grope in cords.
Below, the have-nots, haggling for hope,
In the scraps of the city, they scrounge and they slope.
Coins clash in the counting, a cold, callous sound,
As pennies for the poor plummet, pound by pound.
The disparity deepens, delves into the dirt,
Where want and waste woefully flirt.
Riches rattle in rooms of the revered,
While the wretched reach out, rarely revered.
Wealth’s walls wail a woeful, warring tune,
Equality eclipsed, under a covetous moon.
Markets march on, their mantras resound,
In plush palaces where the plush profoundly abound.
Yet the alleys ache with the cries of the curt,
Where dreams die daily, and despair does flirt.
The echoes of equity, ever so slight,
Struggle to be heard over gold shineing bright.
In the fight for fairness, the feeble find fears,
Muffled by the monied, their moans no one hears.
Riches rattle in rooms of the revered,
While the wretched reach out, rarely revered.
Wealth’s walls wail a woeful, warring tune,
Equality eclipsed, under a covetous moon.
So we sing of the conflict, the separation seen,
A call to combat the corrupt and the eager.
For in the shadows of affluence, adversity is sown,
Where the lines of wealth are wickedly, willfully drawn.