Fury of the Forgotten

In a world of shadows, I toil and strive. Among the honest, I fight to survive. Sweat and grit, my daily bread. Yet dreams remain in fragments, dead.

Drug lords flaunt their ill-gained gold. Liars and thieves, their stories bold. They drive my dreams, in luxury clad. While I sit on a couch, tattered and sad.

Rage boils within, a seething fire. As I watch them rise, climbing higher. Their hands are stained with deeds so dark. Yet they bask in a world so stark.

I eat my noodles, cheap and plain. Each bite is a reminder of my endless pain. Bills pile high, a mountain steep. A silent scream, a promise to keep.

The dream house I envisioned, grand. Now owned by those with blood-stained hands. My dream car, sleek on the street. Driven by those whose lies deceit.

How is this justice, this twisted fate? Where honest lives bear so much weight. While the corrupt ascend with ease. And I’m left begging on my knees.

But in this rage, a strength is found. A fierce resolve, a battle ground. For every tear, and every scar. I’ll carve a path, no matter how far.

Let the thieves and liars take their fill. For I’ll rise above, against their will. My spirit, unbroken, fierce and free. In this world, I’ll make my decree.

The fury of the forgotten burns bright. A beacon in the darkest night. And though the world may favor the few. I’ll forge my destiny, anew.