A Social Idiom

When the rich widow falls,
And the poor worker quites,
Realizations met; shell shocked gleams.

Who are we?
But the same.
Divided simply,
Erected social seam.

The middle man stops,
His continuous uphill fight,
For non-existent riches and authority.

The snobbish laugh,
Filthy childs disgrace,
Plain temperance needed; parity indulged.

Who are we?
But the same.
Divided simply,
Erected social seam.

Farmer moves forward,
Back broke and bent.
Tasteless vulagarity a fine simple point...?

Kingly bows, high esteem,
Oily court; knights and queens.
Coloured royal jackets tailored by cramped hands.

Who are we?
But the same.
Divided simply,
Erected social seam.

Look past the simple barrier,
Clouds sight with unseen hands,
Remove its confines, from our social class.

Stop the ceaseless shambles,
Listen; to echoes of truth.
Captured in quiet idiom;
True Equality.

Who are we?
But the same.
Divided simply,
Erected social seam.