They preach to trust in their reserve,

But do they hand us what we deserve?

They swear the system’s rigged, not fair,

Yet how many cuffs have clamped out there?

The powerful sit, their hands so clean,

While we’re stuck sifting through the unseen.

Keep probing deep, asking too much,

They’ll hush you quick with a golden touch,

You don’t toy with their guarded stash,

Or your days might end in a sudden flash.

Their wealth’s a wall, a sacred line,

Cross it, and fate won’t be so kind.

Walk steady, run, or take to flight,

Cling to the rules you hold as right,

No soul will blink if you should cry,

Your pleas just echo, passing by.

The world keeps spinning, cold and fast,

Your voice a whisper in the vast.