Money?

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a poem about the illusion that is money. These days, currency is represented mostly as numbers on a screen. When we get paid, the numbers go up and when we pay out, for example for living expenses, they fall.
But despite being mere digits, they can cause a lot of heartache and mystery.

Submitted: November 09, 2019

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Submitted: November 09, 2019

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Money? 

 

Right and wrong, 

Your presence strong. 

Beneath your iron fist, 

We all exist. 

 

You haunt, 

You flaunt. 

Cause tears, 

Cause fears. 

You take sleep, 

Make many weep. 

 

You can cause cheer, 

That much is clear. 

Some get a thrill, 

While others kill. 

Sacrifices are made, 

Necessities forbade. 

 

Clothes are bought, 

Wars are fought.

An illusive God, 

Man made, yet odd. 

 

Once paper and gold, 

Now numbers are bold. 

On screens all around, 

You rule with no sound. 

You rise and you fall, 

But in reality, you're small. 

 

Illusion seems real, 

We can change what we feel. 

Perception is all, 

One day you will fall. 

The numbers of dread, 

Will then be dead. 

Love and truth will reign, instead. 


© Copyright 2020 ER Wills. All rights reserved.

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