the great depression

little tommy only knows
his house is his no more.
his mom is moving him somewhere else
little tommy bids goodbye to beloved shores.

there is mohammed, worrying about
his father's land that will now be sold.
and his feeble protests fall on ears deaf,
as roots are severed, to stock up the gold.

IT meister Arjun sighs,
as the pink slip greets him.
all those loans for a house and car,
have claimed another victim.

Peter Han is worried sick, as
his stocks obey the laws of gravity.
mountains of unsold goods touch the sky,
but the base reeks of depravity.

history repeating itself again,
once again we succumbed to greed.
countless tears that have been shed,
hopes and ambitions bleed.

is there an end in sight?
i dont know.
will tomorrow be a better place to be?
i dont know.

perhaps this is a passing cloud,
not a thunderstorm.
but dreams shall endure
when nightmares come true,
tis our curse to carry on.