But that's the problem, don't you see
With all these shopping sprees
We're buying what we please
On books and pleasant realities
Candles, toys, and pretty things
We need to save our cash
Incase we need to dash
Or bills need rehashed
This is our only pass
We don't get to choose
Those pleasant things intrude
On simple people's lives
And dig with pretty knives
Burnings alive
Behind broken doors
And ugly white lies
We never cared about our friends
Only what he spends
Our greed has turned the world upside down
And its blood runs from our hands
We don't need that pretty thing
We don't deserve its claws
That pleasant thing that chains our will
With its silent pause
I'm afraid we're far too gone
The money has been spent
And with each pretty thing
There goes our only rent
I'm afraid we have a problem
One that cannot be bent
Because we spend our livelihood
On things our minds have went
YOU ARE READING
This Feels Write
PoetryLiterally just poems of all sorts. Old ones, new ones, short, long, emotional, silly, etc. All written myself of course. :)
