Cloaked in my blankets,
I hear a fulmination of sounds.
The sounds of children weeping,
And of bombs capturing the ground.
I covered my ears and secured my eyes
Only to find that this time around,
These sounds were not inside my mind.

I released my uniformity of quilt,
And stared upon an empty shelf.
I imagined a place of prestige and luxury,
And the greedy percentage of interminable wealth.
I envisioned families with crystallized patios and polished rooftops
With clothing that glistens like gold and parquet floors that exert possessive pride.
Where a vast mass of appliances lie,
And sculptures of dinnerware are overflown.
But my eyes began to water when a flag was waved with an infinity sign,
And stacks of green paper were boastfully thrown.
And way far beneath their intangible table,
I began to feel a vibration of sounds.
The sounds of the powerless praying for just a couple of crumbs,
As the families fed their colossal crowns.