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" greed"

A wanton weed,
from an unknown seed,
did survive;
for he did strive,
to fulfill his needs.
What matter that he was
a parasite for those,
on whose life-blood he did feed.
He was a triumphant,
who through all miseries had not
even once let proceed,
his conscience over his
instinct, to boldly steal what wasn't his,
to temporarily quench his greed.

Now this weed,
of an unknown seed,
stands isolate,
and desolate.
No other form of life exceeds
the power of his presence,
due to his growth from an essence
into a king of his mead.
Alas! he is bound to plunder,
thanks to his own blunder:
of reducing to mere reeds,
his humble hosts who once,
existed in a glorious abundance,
but now play a niche of a burden on this weed.
Oh you fool pity on your greed

By Aurangzeb PARACHA