These Designs Poem by Talile Ali

Apocalyptic in it's measure
Caustic and devoid of pleasure
2020 came along
Taking right's and making wrongs
COVID-19 turned to dirt
The poor, they lost all their shirts
Pestilence exceed demands
Filling Banker's dirty hands
Many dead across the land
People crying, from the stands
Hoping for some sign of hope
Who would lead, not the Pope
Not a single one to speak or
Help the ill, the poor and weak
Only blaming politicians
Casting doubts and more suspicions
On we People in despair
While Trump hoards without a care
Robbing pensions without guns
Lending, stealing all our funds
Folk consigned to suicides
As whole world's fall & collide
See our nation escalate
Bloated Rich who postulate
2020, stretched so long
& infected by their wrong
Their neglect so fed our fear
So much death thru out the year
We believed the cheats and lies
Of the rich who so despise
Immune themselves, & tossing us
Underneath their heinous bus
Will there be another day
When they'll own, confess and say
That they're crooks with dirty hands
Dubious fiends who stole our lands
Impoverishing us working poor
As we die from shore to shore
Through that darkness, such despair
These beasts breed, & do not care
We can only kneel and pray
To that God who did once say
These designs, they'll crash and die
Consuming all who made this LIE