Scarcity spreads its
Bony fingers across
The landscape, an
Ominous shadow obliterating
Kindness and hope.
People huddle in fear,
Staring at the cracks
Developing in the dam.
Even in the most opulent
Board rooms people talk
Worriedly about the
Coming deluge and continue
Stuffing the vaults with
Stolen gold, expecting
They’ll survive the
Cataclysm they created.
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