Midas's ChildrenMature

Just some social commentary.

Twenty-Four Karat Toe-Tags
Lace and Kashmir body bags
Valued life by what you got.
Apply anti-wrinkle while you rot.

Staring into three-way mirrors.
Reflections of gold not any clearer 
Celebrating your broken homes.
The framework’s made of broken bones. 

Envy, Greed, Pride, Glutton, Sloth 
Wrap your babies in the finest cloth.
Drinking champagne from a sippy cup,
Lust and Wrath, the kids grow up.

Gilded wicked lemon drops,
Diamond-encrusted lollipops.
Gucci Binky, Chanel Diaper,
Designer dance to the pied piper.

Spoiled rotten, fucking disgrace.
Don’t you show your fucking face.
You know nothing of the fun,
of hunger when the money’s done.

Money raises the broken child,
Learns by want, suckled by style.
Poverty raises the money kid.
Raises better than Money did.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed