Under the cover of
pitch darkness
Siting at the helm of
corrupt power
The affluent drug baron
swings on a hydraulic seat
Propitiously, he calls
the shots down the dusty streets
Where the
impressionable junkies bow down in submission
And fan his regal brow,
with their hard-earned currency
Moving in tatters
floating in the violent wind
And defrauded by an
impudent boss
The peddlers’ pay is
hardly enough
Bossy and a perpetrator
of the deepening chasm
He sees to it that the
indolent can barely scrounge
To pay their bills at
spasmodic intervals
And still, keep a tab
on the nemesis force.
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