My Poetry/Quotes.

Select few.

A world ruled by a select few.

They wipe their ass with money, and gold plated tissues.
They laugh as they profit, off your soul-splitting issues.

While you rot away starving, stuck in a cage.
Trying to escape, a never ending maze.

They have billions of dollars, and yet you are poor.
A society filled with hatred, my fingers slammed in the door.

We get a taste of freedom, and start begging for more.
Little do we know, we are begging at Satan's door.