The Minorities’ Wealth

Let me unfold a bitter truth about us, the planet’s actual minority.

What I’m about to reveal has been meticulously hidden from your view;

but I can no longer contain it. Too much has been whispered about us,

about our hoard of wealth and how our collective woes purportedly shatter the universe.

I’ve watched the desperate scale the ladder;

I’ve seen men broker deal with danger,

only to plummet just as we’re poised to do.

We did not construct this empire to bolster modern development,

oh no, darling! Everything we possess is tethered to the banks.

Our only truly valuable asset is the ink on a signature.

Yes, that is the wisecrack! We own paper;

we trade in the illusions of wealth so that you, the mortal, the poor,

cannot grasp our labyrinthine, shady rules.

Nothing is truly ours: not the mansions, the supercars, nor our very lives.

It’s all a stage-managed charade to pretend we’re kings, emperors, and masters of the world

until death arrives to expose the bitter reality.

What the media broadcasts are merely hollow numbers

and an extravagant performance that breeds enemies in every corner.

We’re strangers to love and unacquainted with compassion;

we’re the society’s rejected, hard-wired to a machine

that understands our impulses better than we do.

We wield that machine against your naïve minds to sell, to squeeze a profit,

and we bend the law until we are “Too Big to Fail."

But nothing is eternal; even kingdoms buckle under the weight of egocentricity.

That’s our truth, and I fear the clock is striking midnight.

So, let us collapse like a meteor dragged down by the gravity of avarice,

doomed to the flaws of a well-earned oblivion.

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