The Nature of Greed

Like wild dogs, fighting for the last bone, the last scrap, the last laugh, they argue and deceive and stab in the back. Parched, starved, feigned with stealth, they lie and manipulate for every last bit of wealth.

I’m not like that. I have no need for their yearning, their eccentric wants and greed.

Yet as hawks, swooping, slyly swiping and stealing, they keep an eye out for weakness, wanting and concealing. Vendettas and trickery, harboring their avarice, they take pride in their arrogance, their desires, their twisted rapturous.

It sickens me. It poisons the heart, their overt and indescribable material wants and material needs.