Eskimos bury
The handle of
A razor-sharp knife,
Bearing a lump of
Frozen meat, to be precise
Layers of  blood In the wilderness of ice.
Lured Wolfs gather round it
And unaware their own
Snow-frozen tongues they slit
They voraciously lick, lick and lick
Along with own blood, hot and tick.

'What a windfall luck! '
They think
'We are feeding on our blood! '
Before comes to their head
They find themselves dropping dead!

Hankering for personal gain
Blindfolded by gluttony
There are citizens who
Government's coffer drain.

With the wrong mindset
'We are smart and brave'
They push their country,
Their foothold or abode,
To a grave!