Bleed Me Dry

I did not ask to be the person I am today.

When I was young, all I would do is run and play,

But years later, reality crushes my ribcage

As the bricks fall with my rising age.

Money this, future that, invest here, but live where?

Zombies walking, drops dropping, pulling out our hair.

We pay, consume, and purchase to validate ourselves;

We measure happiness and our life by looking at shelves.

So tell me, just how much am I worth?

Can you measure a person's worth in gold at birth?

Can you tell me the value of my life?

Or are you just the one pointing the knife?

Because I've been staring at that blade

And it's giving me a kind of hunger for which I was made;

A hunger for the relief that these false promises give

In a world I didn't ask to have to fight to live.

The blood that my vains is my life savings since I was a year old,

And they're licking their lips and digging for gold.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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