There once was a man,
who had a very cunning plan.
To entrap you all...as his slave,
for all your life...until your dead...and even fresh in your grave.
No shackles needed...or torturous chains,
just every penny earned by everyone...adding to his evil planned gains.
The slave trade that holds us all,
controls any government, with added interest... the increasing threat of a fall.
The slave master...dictates his way,
or with percentages...political powers will pay.
Elite and more powerful... their growth is their worth,
entrapping every so called free man...on this earth.
That is the secrets...of the hidden slave trade,
so clever and cunning...it takes a percentage... of all that is made.
Money is the invention, for the slave...gold is what...only the slave driver is paid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem