The Devil’s Advocate Wore a Tie
Klaus Schwab didn’t sell cigarettes.
He didn’t light one.
He didn’t cough.
He didn’t inhale.
But he made sure
everyone else did.
He didn’t roll the tobacco.
He rolled out visions.
Agendas.
Panels.
Sustainable words
wrapped around poisoned lungs.
They called it the Great Reset—
but the only thing they reset
was the filter.
He didn’t say “smoke.”
He said “freedom.”
He didn’t say “profit.”
He said “innovation.”
And while they clapped,
the smoke curled under the table.
Klaus was no CEO.
He was the Devil’s Advocate.
He didn’t sell the product—
he sold the silence.
He made smoke look
like strategy.
He wore the suit
while your grandmother lost her breath.
He shook hands
while your father’s lungs collapsed.
And when the Pope
told them to stop,
Klaus smiled
like someone who already bought
the next generation’s air.
He didn’t kill.
He didn’t touch.
But he knew.
And he made sure
we forgot
who did.