We as a race are a broth,
A primordial soup of sorts,
Despite the delectable taste,
It’s an uneven brew,
Unequal in its very composition,
Poverty and fracking reflected in its surface,
The ingredients are indeed all present,
The boiled water of first breathes,
Chicken stock and upbringings,
The ever reliable starches of the working class,
Spices from every corner of the Earth,
Taken and gathered,
Governing herbs to hold it together,
Theoretically,
Chopped vegetable and bankers tax cuts,
Inequality is a salt,
An unfortunate seasoning,
In this broth of a nation,
In this broth of a world,
The majority blend delectably,
The scum invariably rises to the top.
WorldofHarley 