The young ladies and gentlemen
of highborn
must be treated tactfully.
Refrain from reminding them
that they are mortals
with blood in their hands
and bile in the blood.
That they kill and run over,
steal and shred
as the best of humans.
For the mud besmirching
their poor souls
is scented by the lastest
fashion salts
from Europe,
and the checks that fill
their accounts make up
the smell of slavery
and greed devouring
lives and hours from others lives.
Don't you dare
to say abortion or crime
nearby their surroundings,
nor uncover the scandal pot
where snares and guiles
are boiling
(on a slow burn),
spreaded by imported
peanut butter
and fine perfumes
with tiny pieces of mediterranean moon.
The word crime,
robbery, delinquency and conviction
keep it for yourself,
who don't have a penny to your name,
who dance to the sound of their
millionaire rattle
that keeps moving to millions,
and that remind us
that money talks
for amusing
to those who can pay
the salt of life
and the hell
they can care about
the death
of the absolute majority
or the minority
reduced
to a mere zero
on the left.
