Inheritance

This is to address the ridiculous in me,
Entrapped in casinos and bets on identity.
Each lost bet hurts my capital of morality;
Inheritance is a bunch of chains, roaming free.

Why should I waste my poem with more lines?
Each poem is an election of manufactured lies.
Lies that stay safe within safes of guarding eyes
You, me; our eyes are too tired for another Sunrise.

Executioners know how polygamous inheritance is
Hence the blood is dead, the blood that is spilled
So throw away your religion, throw away the beliefs
Whatever they taught us, our inheritance is sick!