when saints dance with devils …

the chamber’s littered
with charred bones and melted gold
wealth of the nation
abstracted from its people
solely for a few’s pleasure
but fools won’t complain
they believe their battles won
but the gold’s been cast
into their final death masks
poured over their moral souls
stealing their last breath
branding their souls with their greed
leaving sunken eyes
empty of tomorrow’s hope
like rats on a sinking ship