How cowardly it
is to hide behind the scenes
and play puppeteer,
while my children are starving
in the streets your Benz drives through.

How selfish it is
to ignore paying taxes,
while I scrape and search
for meaningless currency,
with auditors on my ***.

How luxurious
it must be to slumber in
silk and satin sheets,
while my unclad family
bunches together for warmth.

Oh, the nerve I have
to speak loudly against those
harboring every
cent, while there are thousands of
us without one to our names.