He tried to find the best of us,
The selfless and the generous.
He'd heard of great philanthropy,
Those who set up trusts and gave charity.
But inside him lived a mathematician
And it had always been his mission
To reduce things to the simplicity
Of percentages and parity.
And as he made his calculations,
Amongst villages and towns and nations,
Without exception, it seemed to be,
Those with the least were those that would be
The first that would give all they had to spare.
When their fellow man came in deep despair,
In their hour of need they'd be welcomed in
As if brother, sister, or other kin.
And the ones who had plenty would feign concern,
Would give public alms and make sure to turn
It into a public relations gain -
A small percentage to ease the pain
Of the guilt they felt deep down inside
Having ridden the Exploitation Ride,
Having stolen Life from brothers and sisters -
Philanthropic salve to soothe the blisters.
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