The Jackpot of Injustice

 In BC, the lucky few hit the jackpot,

Millionaires made from a single thought.
Fortune smiled, their wealth did bloom,
Yet the streets grow colder, hearts consumed.

Seven hundred twenty-eight winners, a year—
A windfall, a dream, a moment so clear.
If each gave just one million, you see,
That’s seventy-two million for you and me.

But what’s that worth? A mansion so grand,
Just a bit less than Chip Wilson’s land.
A house, a life—how quickly they’ve grown,
While the rest are left with nothing, alone.

Money pours from every casino,
As the laundered funds continue to flow.
Real estate booming, built on lies,
As people suffer and hope slowly dies.

Vancouver, BC, once a place to dream,
Now a playground for those who scheme.
They took and took, and yet still they crave,
For more, for power, for an endless wave.

But where’s the giving, the sharing, the care?
When will the fortunate stop taking their share?
When will the wealthy wake up and see
That the province is broken, not just you and me?

A home was given, a chance to thrive,
Yet they hide their wealth, and the poor can’t survive.
It’s time for a change, it’s time to wake,
Stop the greed, for all our sake.

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