Mid Days Draw

Upon the wind of mid day is when the machines reach their peak
Tugging and pulling creating a voice for those who cannot speak
Meek! I am under the stress of the worlds taken rights
Driving to be given paper unfit, more valuable the view of the street lights
Within each fragment within every stitch is a story to unfold
A wonder to be formed out of this mold
Nothing that could be made from gold
Could ever have its story told
Riches and fortune are given one day
Time will come and tear them away
Power once had will be demolished
Left with nothing left unpolished
Tower of greed will tumble to the ground
No one hears me time just goes around and around