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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Cultural · #797614
My rantings about money and its effect on people taken some what of a coherent form.
Look at you,
Your pretty shoes,
Your pretty cloths,
Your pretty boys,
Calling on you
All hours of the day.

Listen to you,
Fawning, obsessing
Over a new skirt.
What is it?
Abercrombie and Fitch?
Mine’s not.

Look at you,
Jumping, Laughing
About the new boy
Maybe he’ll buy
A Tiffany’s Bracelet.
Mine can’t.

Listen to you
Screaming, yelling,
On the phone
With your mother
With your mother
I don’t.

Fuck your shoes.
Fuck cloths.
Fuck your boys.
FUCK YOUR MONEY.
Are you Happy?
I am.
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