Blood In The Red Poem by Matthew Holloway

A stock market assassination
Brings down another government
The profit margins of conglomerates
Stained with the blood of the innocents
Those barely getting by each day
Just looking to get on, survive
As the rich get richer
And seek to conserve their stature
Buying and inheriting seats of power
Debt, debt and death remains
For all the rest, restless people
Who dream of some glorious revolution
But lack the leader to guide them to it
And so the quarterly profit report
Finds blood in the red
And they celebrate with a glass of champagne