Beneath the plaster
Beneath the plaster
that covers
the cracks in the walls
there is a sickness.
Another side to laughter,
fancy dresses,
and dinner suits.
Superficially
there is order,
grandeur,
but beneath,
deceit and lies.
The priest who
likes small boys,
The business man
who makes his wealth
from whore houses.
The banker
who does dirty deals,
makes money from
the weaker willed.
The leaches,
fancy ladies
plundering a living
from rich husbands
and sugar daddies.
Beneath the plaster
that covers
the cracks in the walls
there is a sickness.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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