'' They Profess '' Poem by Bri Mar

We're obsessed by Gods,
Conned by the frauds,
With ourselves we're at odds,
What a mess.

The righteous religious,
Believe they're prestigious,
Lay claim they're prodigious,
Reassess.

Many sick politicians,
Who make it their missions,
To fulfil their ambitions,
Our stress.

The rich world leaders,
Contemptuous breeders
Working class bleeders,
No less.

When they start to fight,
We are their might,
On us they're a blight,
They oppress.

Under constant attack,
Suffering their flak,
We never fight back,
We regress.

For all that we earn,
We just never learn,
That should cause concern,
Not distress.

While the minority the few,
Take what they're due,
There's nothing for you,

‘' They Profess ‘'