We are yours, O rich, yet when we call,
You vanish, leaving us to fall.
You flaunt your wealth with pride so vain,
As if it’s yours to forever claim.
Your callous heart, your selfish ways,
Can never shine in human’s praise.
A body bloated, greed’s cruel hand,
Has crushed the poor across this land.
Your promises, a cruel disguise,
Have left the poor to agonize.
With all your wealth, you'll die in shame,
Your deeds condemned, a wretched name.
The grave will be your final bed,
With snakes and scorpions 'round your head.
Your wealth and towers can’t redeem,
The pain you've caused, the broken dream.
You spit on poor with hidden scorn,
Yet mask it with a smile, forlorn.
Why not reveal your truth, so cold?
We see the lie, the story told.
We may depart before your end,
But justice waits, and will attend.
So go, O rich, your fate is clear,
God stands with poor, their hearts sincere.
By Aadil Ahad ( 143)