What Money Can't Buy

What Money Can’t Buy

Is life the delicate balance of keeping yourself alive?

Or is it the difference between a shuffle and a strive?

If you understand the likeness,

Between vices and a crisis,

Can you also believe in the similarity,

Between abuse and alcoholism?

Foolishness and wisdom?

Can you hear what I write?

Did I do this out of spite?

Maybe, but I cannot no longer see the difference of wrong and right,

Because I no longer live simply in day and night,

And I now see the point to get into this fight.

I won’t refuse to create whatever my hands will,

Cause I fear that I can no longer feel the beat in my chest,

I am afraid that somebody will get the best of me,

And put me to rest.

So I figure I should challenge them at least.

Maybe my hands can fill,

Rather than kill.

And maybe they can heal,

Rather than steal.

I’ve been a thief all of my life,
I have done wrong things for the right reason,

And I’ve made it through yet another season.

All I have done is steal,

And maybe this is my confession,

Before I go insane,
All because I may never get my Mary Jane.

I have lied,

Stolen the truth.

I have killed,

Stolen a life.

I have spoken,
Stolen the silence.

I have walked,

Stealing the pathway.

But I wonder if today is my day,

To make you sway and dream the bad away.
Hopefully these lyrics will wake a city of the dead,

And maybe,
I will see love in the world again.

But those who have come close to me,

Have just had their hearts stolen.

I am from a nation where the poor lie,

Just waiting to die.

This world has made me ice cold and hard,

And yet I cry.

A nation where the powerful mow down the weak,

Yet it isn’t genocide,

Too many have died,

But I say they didn’t die because of the cold,

Or because of starvation,
Or because they were old.

They didn’t turn stiff because of addiction,

They died because of broken hearts.

Cracked open by betrayal,

Straight faced lies,

And they gave up their will to fight.
But they will always be remembered,

Because a broken heart,

Always lets in the light.

While one sealed shut,

From dirty deeds and horrible greed,

Will only see darkness and feel the weight of guilt.

I now turn away from my cold yesterdays,

Knowing that if I die in this broken nation,

That I will leave what I needed to in the past,

For I cannot make this silence last.

I will not walk away,

Cause I know am part of the fray,

The few and the brave.

You said, “I mean,

Part of the beauty of me is that I am rich.”

You don’t know what beauty is.

Beauty is strength,

You haven’t had to fight for anything in your life.

You may have money,

But there are things that a poor man has that you don’t.

You see,

Money can’t buy you happiness.

Bravery.

Courage.
Love.

Intellect.

Morals.

Respect.

Patience.

Honesty.

Class.

Character.

Integrity.
And last but not least,

Common sense.

But money gets power,

Power gets control,
And control,

That gets people killed.

(Doesn’t it, Mr. President?)

Author's Note

Looking for open and honest feed back. Feel free to comment and/or review this piece of writing. I'd be more than happy to discuss any flaws or different ideas that could be presented. Thanks.

Reviews

[c. bee]

Wow, I have so much love for this poem. The haphazard rhyming flows perfectly, and the words really cut to the core. Keep it up!

[Austin_Meehan]

Thank you so much, I appreciate the positive feedback. Don't be afraid to read other pieces of work and I will do the same for you! Much thanks and glad you enjoyed!

[Randolph]

As usual: Holy F**k. That was a crescendo tumbling back unto itself. You crushed it my friend. I wouldn't touch a thing. Maybe offer to pick up the reader with a joke or a snack at the end? Picture of a puppy? Jesus....

[aspen]

holy s**t this is really good, i love it

[Norah]

full of passion . i love this poem . sets a great memory . great flow in this poem . keep up the good work