Famine

To tip the scales suggests that they

Are right now equal, as they weigh

A greed with which we think we fight

Though it becomes us in the night

Selfish people, selfish nation

Leave them be in their starvation

Single-minded and short-sighted

In denial ‘bout land we blighted

So desperate to call life a gift

We’re unaware of where we shift

The blame of all the people’s plights

As our intention, method spites

A famine of humanity

Always reflects insanity

x

This was the last of my series on the four horsemen of the apocalypse. If you want to check out the other poems, you can find them here: Death, Pestilence, War.

Thanks for reading, and have a great day :)