A Curse
When your ancestors came to these hills
and felt only hunger for their neighbors gardens
I believe a pit formed in your bloodline
with each generation as your wealth bloomed into
a foul gummy flower your greed swelled with
with equal measure
posioned soaked barks from corrupted creeks
spilled forth, allowing your taint to seep further
into your Usher homestead
a copperhead rank fills the nostrials,
a miasma billowing from your buildings
delicate white petals as rot swirls within wood grain
the bloody ichgor from your robber barron mines
is squeezed from an unfortunate harvest of desperate,
desolate, and devastated
a lot casted with devils, so admist this ruined empire
your souls will forever be bound to the lives crushed
beneath this Northwest Passage of profit
Until God finally looks upon this line, grimaces and signs you
off to hell’s slaughter house. Plump from the excess
of misdeeds and bottomless pits.