My Poor Wallet


By Tim S Poma

My poor wallet is saturated with smoke,
As in my dreams of great wealth I choke.
For there is no hope to play monopoly,
In less I let you all get on top of me.
Which just so happens to be the case,
I let you use my back to fill your briefcase.
As if my future wasn’t already laced,
And tied to the future of your disgrace,
Tied to your tired and tasteless paper chase.
So I beg you to get up from on top of me,
For you have taken everything but my dignity.
As I humbly wallow in the slaving fields,
You are behind closed doors making big deals.
While all the rest of stretch to make a meal,
Unlike you your heart it’s never been filled.
Constantly using me to help you feel,
Like an accomplished man behind the wheel.
But I hate to tell you this my friend,
Your visions of grandeur have come to an end.
As the last penny drops from out our pocket,
We all unite and take off like a rocket.
For their is much anguish in words you have said,
So let’s pick up our fist and this love instead.
As For my poor wallet I put out the fire,
As I redirect my love and find a new desire.

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2 Responses to “My Poor Wallet”

  1. Byrdsflight Says:

    What you cant see are my two thumbs WAY up!
    Great job!

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