We call them to the table set,
With wealth built on pixels, screens, and trade,
A banquet of algorithms, stocks, and debt,
Yet they sneer at the fruits our hands have made.

The table shines with deals inked fast,
With power brokered in digital halls,
They scorn the offerings, once theirs to grasp,
Now demanding more as the empire falls.

For they were once the hungry few,
Who hustled, coded, who climbed the spire,
Now fed, they clamor for what they claim,
Not for the work, but for the fire.

They rise, not to build, but to claim the throne,
Eyes on the crown, but blind to the cost.
The feast is devoured, the table left bare,
And in the silence, they find what they’ve lost.

kpr2 9/7/2024 12:48am CT