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Pigs-
Men in wigs.
Lords and nobles
Well fed. Over fed.
Whilst others linger in dread
Searching for bread
A carrot, even a pea would do.
Waiting
Turning to dust
As the machines-Their burden-
Rust.
All while they
Nameless faceless
Not a soul in the lot.
All they asked for got.
Giants at their table
They laugh
And drink from a calf
A false golden idol
Gave them all
As other wait for anything
To fall
To feed their families
To feed themselves
Or die
Eclipsed by another’s greed
To not allow any good deed.