Does hope now remain in the air between trees? When the world only cares about that which it sees. As our skies Slowly die Do the rich not see all the harm that they cause? Do money-made men even care for the laws? Do they feel? Do they bleed? Does pain run away whenever we call? Or does money’s voice speak louder than us all For what fee, Can one flee? Are the strongest blades forged in the hottest flame? Or do the hottest red coals put metal to shame? Is the fire, Just our ire?
Are the nobles the first among us to care?
Do rich and poor even breathe the same air?
If we speak,
They’ll just stare.
The rich man’s loss reduces him to tears
While the poor man walks every cracked street in fear
As we speak,
They grow weak
Their foot soldiers march and crush all defiance While the poor man’s beaten into compliance
As they die,
Who can cry?
BIOGRAPHY:
Vedant Panamgipalli is an aspiring poet, debater, and overall nerd.