(3:59 PM)
When I look in the mirror I don't see a person.
Instead, I see dollar bills in the shape of a human body.
My mind is stuck on money, a financial prison.
My mother often worries that I'll kill myself, but she doesn't see that she's the reason why.
If I die, she saves money and can live a life less stressed.
I don't understand why she's against saving money.
Doesn't she understand that it's for the best?
But she insists "money isn't as valuable as you, honey."
But I'm not a person.
I'm just a walking cash sign,
leeching from people's wallets,
and I wish I were dead.
YOU ARE READING
The Poetry Book
PoetrySince the 24th of December 2015 I've been writing one poem everyday. I figured I should post these poems somewhere instead of just letting them rot in my notes. Enjoy. *All poems are mine. If you would like to use one for whatever reason, please mes...
