THE MERCHANTS OF MAYHEM
In the realm of deceit, some souls reside,
Gullible hearts, fertile grounds for evil to abide.
As they sit, concocting chaos, their minds astray,
Weaving webs of wickedness, night and day.
Their slumber's filled with visions of malevolence and spite,
Their waking hours, a pursuit of perpetual fight.
Peace, a distant memory, lost in the haze,
As they revel in the suffering of others, in endless daze.
Conflict and war, their cash cow, a source of delight,
Problem creation, their bread and butter, shining bright.
They shun the problem solvers, silencing their noble voice,
Ensuring their crafted chaos reigns, without a choice.
Even some spiritual leaders, tainted by this evil stain,
Participate in this nefarious dance, with steps of shame.
The inventors of software, viruses, and antiviral might,
A cycle of destruction, fueled by greed's insatiable light.
With humanitarian gestures, they blind the masses' sight,
While killing by proxy, in the darkness of endless night.
Nuclear weapons, a destructive force, aimed at humanity's heart,
Vaccines, a tool of oppression, targeting the African part.
Is there not a cause? A reckoning to come, a day of reckoning's might,
When posterity arises, to demand justice, shining with new light.
Why prioritize personal gain, above humanity's collective cry?
Consider the greater good, before the final goodbye.
Copyright ©
Philip Abayomi Olorunfemi
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