'' To Get Rich, There's A Back Stabbing Queue '' Poem by Bri Mar

You'll hear people shout,
Equality for all,
More for those without,
Hits a brick wall,
Be in no doubt,
There are those who will stall,
They'll say, you get what you're due.

Those with the most,
Your pleas they'll decry,
For they love to boast,
That they live on high,
As their fillets they roast,
From starvation you'll die,
Even more, they want to accrue.

A classless society,
They will never allow,
Too much variety,
To them you won't bow,
By their laws of piety,
Let me tell you and how,
You will never become one of their crew.

Having money to waste,
Is not what it seems,
So don't act in haste,
We all need our dreams,
If in mind you're well placed,
You don't need their regimes,
Never make a decision you'll rue.

On their arrogance they feed,
It brings on aggression,
They'll watch as we bleed,
They are into oppression,
Their insatiable greed,
Then leads to depression,
When the taxman demands what he's due.

Like you and me,
They suffer insanity,
They could not disagree,
We all like profanity,
They poo and they pee,
They're driven by vanity,
Yet they think, they're more equal than you?

Give this some thought,
It's fact, not a ploy,
With what you have got,
It's all yours to enjoy,
With what you have not,
Never let it annoy,

‘' To Get Rich, There's A Back Stabbing Queue ‘'