Greed
For most people, unfortunately.
It’s fickle is as fickle does
In a world of want and gain.
You try to cling to what once was,
But only avarice remains.
How does one fill up the space
That’s born a hole, that bores and grows?
To live in splendor, to debase?
In what world would someone oppose
A life of luxury, of ease?
To live without sorrow or woe?
To do whatever you please,
To follow free where the wind blows?
But there are secrets hidden in
That hole, that empty, growing space
That expands underneath your skin,
That mirrors in your glowing face.
The secret, oh my dears, is this:
That what you see is not what’s true.
So by all means, keep chasing bliss
Until there’s nothing left of you.
