Out on the roads

In the flashes of success

And amongst those unlucky toads

I walk with my mind, in a mess

Of how should I act?

Like a snob for the things that I have

And tell those sky flying men

That I am no less

And act like a to-be precious gem



Or should I act poor and failed?

Which might console the toads for their own rails derailed

By having one more somewhat of their kind

Or at the least my sight will not kill them inside

And harass their dreams

To see in a man around oneselves

What they have always fancied about themselves

To see that pride in the eyes

That steel away their already little peace in life


I am ashamed of my money

Because it never laughs, it’s never funny

All it gets, is sometimes a win-over

And sometimes a glare in despair

The prior is a worthless praise

The latter is full of disgrace

Those unfed, unslept eyes

When they pierce down me

My throat chokes, my spirit dead lies

And I don’t care to enjoy my share of money

That creates sleepless nights of many


I am ashamed of my money

It is harsh and it is not funny. 

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