Empty stomach and larder


You can’t un-see

Once you’ve cut the red tape

You remain unfree

Shackled thoughts won’t escape.


When it doesn’t make sense

Whenever you listen

There’s no recompense, in a

Taxable war of attrition.


“You won’t have to suffer

If you’d just work harder!”

No nutritional buffer

For empty stomach and larder.


This so-called elite

I just don’t understand

They’d cut off your feet

And insist that you stand.


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