A Timely Death Poem by Jack Worthington

All things come and go, their presence precarious at best
Legacies worn down over time's pounding rain unending
Blood flows from appendages to the heart, money from the rest
The best and brightest toil in ever smaller spaces fending.

Death by paper cuts, empty paragraphs weigh heavily
To match the empty souls toiling in their misery
Common sense washes out like the tide
Leaving only ripples of sand as a guide.

At first lost faith, then confidence then respect
Twilight turns to night, the predators begin to cry
Speaking half truths, to counter those speaking lies
Though no truth is spoken, mostly through neglect.

Advantage will be taken by those who know better
Some will fight back, through the pen and dead letters
None will shed his blood for the safety of a nation
All will reap the rewards of our damnation.

How did this all happen will be spoken day by day
Avarice of course, but none will speak that word
The culpable is us, the guilty parties, the herd
Once a healthy host, our legacy frittered away.

All things are fragile, and the fragile meets the fool
A generation suffers, another builds another rules
Ashes in their mouths, burnt paper, and upheaval
The rulers become peasants, their legacy medieval.

All we had to do was mind a store we never built
Not feeling the bricks in our hands, not feeling guilt
More and more money taken from the register
So careless, so reckless, our death is quite timely.