Stupidity is a luxury
And quite frankly,
Like most luxuries,
Only the rich can truly afford it.
Wealth, money, filthy lucre.
Would you trade the world
For circular slices of metal?
For squares of shredded trees?
It's not as if you can go to a store
And by groceries with the groceries
you pick up off the shelves.
So why do it with our limited resources?
I'll confess, father,
I'm a suburban white-boy,
I'll take my hail marys
And be on my way back to my home
Where a family fights over what food to throw away in order to make space in the fridge,
Where a family fights to dull their minds in front of a plastic screen,
where love is defined by a book rather that the heart,
where you can only be yourself as long you are acceptable.
Please forgive them, father,
for they know not what they have done.
Stupidity is a luxury,
and quite frankly,
like most luxuries,
only the rich can afford it.