Means to an end

 

Sadly, gravity  

Has me scratching for fiscal reassurance.  

Sued, ’cause surely the affluent lose  

Maneuverability trying to peruse my dues.  

 

Stewed  

Like the blackest pot of food.  

I imagine  

Their tavern—  

All of them wondering, how did this happen?  

 

Amidst,  

Because  

I’m called this  

While I see them as that—  

Truly a foolish casket,  

That wild cat’s habitat.  

 

Truth is,  

At least I monitor what these mice of men do.  

You ask me to play,  

Then talk wild things like,  

What does the fox

say?

 

By: Vincethapoet