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Money
Everyone wants me.
I’m long, thin
Emerald, and pretty
A slice of sin.
I give people
Not only houses
But gold status
And blouses.
And all people
Built on nothing
Seek me to build
Their great something.
Sometimes I cling to them
And watch them grow,
Other times they suffer
Shiver, in the cutting snow.
People like to use me
To search for meaning,
But they don’t find it.
They’re not seeing
What I really am.
There is nothing
Behind the paper
But their green blushing.
And so I watch them
As they fade away
Become consumed and vapid
And in this green nothing, decay.
People search and search
But no one will ever see
What real joy is
While everyone wants me.

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