I look at all the things I own
Wondering why I have so much
Am I so greedy I desire
Stuff I'll never even touch?
I buy things that I barely want
And then things to keep these things in
Throw in cleaning and repair
And soon my money's spreading thin
I think it's funny, in a way
How I can still look back and see
The moments I was happiest
Those minutes I felt the most glee
They were not made by all the stuff
That clutters up my tiny room
My merriness could not be found
In jewelry, clothes or nice perfume
It was bought by all of those
Who gladly gave up so much time—
Spending this precious resource
But never asking for a dime
So now I write these words in thanks
Because I don't know where I'd be
If they'd not given of their lives
To bring happiness to me
And I remind myself each day
That these things I think I need
Only ever serve to grow
My horrid, never-ending greed
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoesiaAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)
