The poor man’s gravity

A few words on how the rich abuse what they have an abundance of, and how the poor has to make do with a drink concocted of their own regrets and ghosts…

The Daily Wanderluster

Ripping past the masses,

yet couldn’t go faster.

Tiptoeing on the brink of disaster.

Blood money has become the master,

this is the poor man’s gravity.

Grinning in the wake,

of a loss sustained.

A smile that takes an age to maintain.

The body lies bare on the tracks of your train.

This is the poor man’s gravity.

A chink in your Midas touch,

bleeds away the peace.

Lies for the rich, sleep for the weak.

Can anyone spare a penny, just a piece?

This is the poor man’s gravity.

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