Money We Love Poem by Nick Kler

Stale smelling
Scorned and Withered
A piece of paper
With lines of fate
Engraved within

Selfless, blank faces
Embossed upon
Rolled up, abused
Claimed and traced upon
By a million godly creatures

Relationships of blood
Splattered like water
Vows mustered
Children slaughtered
All in the midst
Of collecting more
A paper so filthy
You would not clean with it
Your toddlers bum

A pieces of paper
So stoked
It some how, steals your soul
From deep within you
You never find out
Up until your end

By then, It's too late
It already planted
It's roots, deep within you
An addiction far greater
Than any drug upon this planet

It torchers you
It pulls you away
From your family
And your loved ones
Leaving you all alone
In some dark corner
Filled with scattered paper

There is no one left
But your death
To share it with