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  • Writer's pictureSonal


I was the quintessential billionaire

Who had zero respect for people,

Everything that I was, was the courtesy of

My late father, who was the actual

Poster boy for the rags-to-riches model,

But I had even less respect for the nature,

Because, well, aren't humans supposed to rule?

But hey, don't you dare blame me!

Yes, my father did lay a foundation stone

So I wouldn't have a childhood that mirrored his own,

But my wealth wouldn't have reached sky high

If the slaves of greed and consumerism

Hadn't given into what I had to sell to them;

I wanted to make the ancient trees in the forest

That loomed over at the end of city talk,

But technology still rode the backseat in that area,

I settled for building a haunted house to tap into people's fears,

The hungry lot of the city really wanted it,

But the village near the forest had almost waged a war,

And it was particularly funny for me,

How these impoverished people, who barely ate twice

Had the audacity to stand against someone like me,

Who could easily swipe off their village like a Lego set;

So one day when the men of the village were at work,

And the women were busy keeping their houses intact,

I led an army of bulldozers to dig open the forest ground;

Forty minutes into the work, we found the dead remains

Of a hundred and seventy nine people,

Some maimed, some torn apart, some, well, I rather not tell;

Amidst the chaos and the horror, we didn't realize

That we were surround by the folks from the village,

Who seemed awfully powerful and freakishly demonic,

And before we could run away, the forest echoed

With the sound of our bones collectively cracking,

Like we were dolls in the hands of pre-school kids;

Now as I lay here, twenty feet deep under the ground,

Waiting for Death to take my soul, I can feel a bunch of

Strong roots of a tree slowly making their way inside my eyes.

//NaPoWriMo, Day 28

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