The Greedies

The wolves
The smiling tyrants
Emblazoned onto my back
More painful than hot irons
Even sirens flaring
Couldn’t overlap the sound
Of their greedy stomachs
That rummage through piles of life
Seeking crumbs and small bits of gold
Age indiscriminate, to young, middle-aged, and old
Who bleed to the sound of injustice?
No, who bleed to the sound that the dust makes
Especially as the earth quakes
Moments before it falls
They look behind and wave
As you sit and take it all
And later gain your favor
By not giving you a call
No they send their condolences
In a loosely decorated square
Large enough 
To seal yourself up
Without a care
Regardless of whether
You're awake or asleep
Listen my friends
The yellow waves run deep