There's never enough of it.
More than anyone else,
I need it.
And I need it more and more.
Needing more has made me:
Immature and amateur.
Socialist while socializing.
Who am I to say when?
I'll never have enough.
That's not greed,
I get and get, while you give.
It's pathetic how I run around,
In hopes of making millions.
Without ever investing a dime
In myself.
I don't feel feelings,
Without money.
I do that a lot.
I won't go hungry.
Old man says he knows a way,
Get out of the eight to five.
While I sit here and wonder what,
To do with my spare time.
Contributions are mistakes.
Donations are illogical.
Money is in the air,
Just a bunch of paper.
Zeros in a bank.
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The poetry here is free to view and share. The author believes art should be available to all, even if not able to afford a purchased copy.
You are authorized to view and share poems, as long as due credit is given. All poetry, words or phrases given are written by DENA DERAKHSHAN.
