Intricate Optimism

A disgusting thief is greed,
Which prods at sleeping shame-
That poor, dull face
Long far from that pain.

Yet, the plunder pushes, defies
What seems to be its pulse,
To all, but some hidden, lost heir
Its darkness truly bequeath.

The only, so common escape?
To be born a sin, yet bearing
As a fugitive trader, Unknowns
Stolen from beyond the dark.