Corruption

By Andrew R. Duckworth

He sits in hightowers
On the lowly ground
Needing one more stool
Even with tall stature.
The walls laced with gold
Are not enough for his lust—
He needs the golden bust,
One that he’ll sit on his desk
And admire like a god
As it glares back.
What’s one more war,
One more famine,
A little more debt going to hurt
When the world heads to the dirt?