#inherdeathbyzhay On her bare feet, she sang and danced. She swirled gleefully and knew no fear. Suddenly, she was grabbed by an unknown She tried to break free with much pain to bear. But eventually taken to a place she knew nothing of; In the dark room, she bitterly cried, "why am I here? " Then a figure spoke in a familiar voice, "Give the underground lords the treasure you own. It will be an exchange for your freedom" Perturbed, she spoke, "The treasure of pure love I've known, What is the gain trading it for the inglorious? O treacherous guardian, may evil writhe your bone". The man smirked coldly at the bold-faced frightened lady "Philomena, you will be sold out for meat. Prepare yourself for the trade ritual; Your fate is now tied to dance to our beat. Make those great graceful glamorous moves, And flow in tune even in the fiercest heat". As the cold traitor left, she said to herself,
The poor man will always be the sucker for the rich. Yet they, the poor, made the rich what he or she is. Despite his wisdom he is taken for granted where the big man is present. Like the king, the big man does no wrong. Every word that drops from his lips is lapped up with relish by the poor. Even if they are the most foolish words you can ever imagine. He is always right. Might is right. Why not. The poor man works in the big man's factory. He buys low quality products from that factory at higher prices compared to the high quality and commensurate value that the big entrepreneur obtained from imported goods. He is paying the poor folk a pittance from which he made those purchases in the local market. The rich established the Bank which the factory worker must save something out of his little stipend. Remember he works under the most inhuman conditions at whatever rate of earnings. His health is ruined by very low standard of living. The big men enjoy the best of health servic