Cardholders

Cults of criminal violence breathe
Inhaling youth
Exhaling disease
Regularly stealing hopes and enjoyment
Cursing hard workers
And praising deceit

Where is your milkround, realm of the damned?
How do the misfits
Somehow find your band?
As the gravitas simply pulls all to your feet
only those like minded hardballs think freely!

At night when you’re busy
All calm and unwise
Don’t let my bleak torch
Burn truth in your eyes
Digital con’s, or pickpocket prizes
Broad as this country
You’ve no more surprises!

Lost only heart things
And not much there to start
Each day out to strike
May be one day your last.