Somewhere there’s a hole
Where the money falls in
It’s results hardly tasted
As our patience grows thin
Buying and trying for whats best and what is new
We forget that what is good for you, is not good for me
But we want, and we need, and we fill ourselves up
Belief itself sustains us when money cannot
Money at the pinnacle of all of our lives
We die dreaming with coins
Placed over our eyes
About: Here it is again. Money is always an issue at some point. I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this poem, but I think thats my self critic speaking.
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