We created money

But why does it feel like it created us

That with a certain amount it turns us into monsters

Or slaves of prostitution

That a life can take another life with a point of a finger

And in a blink of an eye


We own money

But why does it feel like it owns us

Spending our lives chasing buses that takes us

To cities that cater everything

While faking

That happiness is found on things


But ephemeral is what it will be

Because it is greed

Not happiness

It is lust not love

And it is gluttony not contentment


You see money does not make the world go round

It is not the root of all evil

It is men

Hungry men

Whose appetite go stronger every time his pocket deepens

And those who have less are not the least fortunate

For they experience happiness through contentment by having something to eat for a day

While the rich have gone to buffets filling their mouths but still feeling empty until the end their days



One thought on “money

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