The elite, the ruling class, the men and women who profit from human bondage and the perversion of humanity.

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there's a roomful of laughter
and a roomful of tears
and the women wear pearls
dripping from their ears

the men drive sleek daggers
through the heart of the night
and yesterday's memories
are locked up tight

there are children singing
full of despair
in a room filled with laughter
no one cares

the women are pretty
they slither like snakes
through a roomful of glass
they have no time to waste

the men smoke cigars
and talk of the war
money and profit
and the bright women who whore

small birds shake raindrops
from the limb of a tree
and boys and girls
sell themselves for a fee
in a roomful of laughter
razors cut lines through the snow
silver lives are revealed
in mirrors rimmed with gold
delusion comes unbidden
and fills this cup of woe
with foolish fabled myths
we come and with sweetest
oblivion go

Authors Bio:
Ex-army medic. Atheist. I'm an amateur writer and poet.