A good meal and all fire is quelled
no room for ire when the belly is full
no agitation or revolutionary angst
just the bliss of being fed well
But what of those who do not dine
upon the feast we call our life
those shut out from our banquet
those who know only hunger and strife
Do I spare them a thought
as I fill my ample gut
can I deny a share of the blame
for those who die at my feet
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