Locked hearts & Hand grenades

Here is a world, grand from above,

A kingdom of plenty, but scarce of love

Scrawled on a surface; troubled and torn

Discordant, lies a torrent of scorn

Of rich legacies and a tyrant's clout,

Where invisible lives silently cry out

Of insatiable power and the people's privation,

Failing laws and a dying nation

With clasped fists and hardened hearts,

Withering wit and the fading arts

Feigned piety and an unholy oblation,

The scourge claiming eternal damnation

Of staggering privilege and arduous toil,

Forged glory and a sombre recoil

With bejewelled thrones and patched up tents,

Solid gold bars against finite cents

Of extravagance and need,

We revel, while they humbly plead

As they paint a rainbow, we look away,

They love, we nay

With apathy spreading abound,

a plaintive melody echoes around

Of a world so ghastly and vain,

Of such beauty, Of such pain