a bloodied $100 bill
clenched tightly
in a rigor mortis
stiffened hand
bodies strewn around
the room
like a battlefield
filled with bloodied sand
a briefcase open
contents strewn about
millions of dollars
bullet casing bank
no one left alive
prosperity denied
one thing for certain
and this is very frank
money is
the root
of all evil
YOU ARE READING
200 Poems (completed Nov 25, 2016, 8:52am)
PoetryA challenge to write 200 poems between November 1 - December 31, 2016. Please support the others who have accepted this challenge. Follow them at #200poemchallenge. (completed Nov 25, 2016, 8:52am)
