The world is not for sale.
How we have lost our minds, to believe that
Everything equates some cash value.
While power hungry monsters
Orbit the globe, gambling on it,
Restless fools stand by, abnormal
Like camels on tricycles,
Drowning in the desire to join.
If the world were for sale,
So brainwashed would the people be
Neglectful,
Oblivious,
That green greed would swallow us whole.
For your sake, quit scrutinizing over that wallet.
Our currency is becoming our culture.
Remember the scent of the roses.
$tray from the conformity of competition.
Act as if money didn't actually buy happiness.
Let yourself resist the
Expectation that the world will be for sale someday.
YOU ARE READING
restless: a poetry collection
Poetrythe thing about waiting for the rain to stop is that you don't know that it will. you could wait and wait and it could just rain and rain. sometimes, if you wait long enough, the rain will stop and the sun will shine. but sometimes the drizzle turns...
