Poetic Justice
In gilded halls where fortunes lie,
A man of wealth casts a humble cry.
Seven billion in his name,
Yet seeks the handouts all the same.
Bibles sacred, sold for gain,
A royal legacy now profane.
He promises to lift the veil,
On secrets hidden, tales regale.
Why wait for power’s fleeting grace,
When truth could shine in any place?
A title held, yet silence kept,
While shadows in the corners crept.
His lineage, a weighty chain,
In politics, they staked their claim.
With roots deep in the public sphere,
Yet now his voice demands an ear.
The irony, a bitter twist,
A fortune hoarded, yet insists
That others fund his grand campaign,
As he seeks the highest plane.
The scales of justice finely tilt,
On deeds of gold and actions built.
For in the end, the truth must see,
The balance of hypocrisy. RC