the sword swings closer by the day
to end our lives well yet it may
for power does not need to repent
well blessed are the incompetent
to pick on those so vulnerable
that they might have there jolly ball
but who does give and who does take
when pretty work you can fake
to cover up the tracks you made
with plans forced through and not displayed
but now that single die is cast
till eternity it will last
against power we cannot stand
or those who play underhand
the truth it seems is understood
bad money drives out good

the masked poet