Capitalism

It feels strange, a wake 

And yet no sorrow

I talk, get no response.

I used to see you grow and learn

Ensconced you in warm clothes

I call, get no response.

I tended you, and fed you

For many years now
You used to wake

And talk

And now I sit in wake 

Brimful confused sans grief

And cry, I get no response.

It always feels odd

Sitting with dead bodies.