On each trade,
Exchange, transaction.
Every single time
Someone profits
And someone loses.
Every bet, speculation.
On each assumption,
Unspoken ideas,
And millionaire dreams
She’s there.
She flows with the wealth
In a jet over Paris
Or dancing over graves in Congo
Unbiased, impartial, fair.
She’ll savor your success
And moan to your despair.
As long as the money flows
Real, fake, in every form
No matter the reason
No matter the why
An entity put in motion
Since the first man
Made the first profit
Until the last human
Kills for the last penny
And everything colapses
Under her pleasure.
#
"Lady Capital"
A piece by Victor Ribeiro
