This is just a poem I wrote. (Warning: Slightly graphic)
Rich in Nothing Except Money.
You don't try to make peace.
But you instead drop bombs like we are in the middle east.
You need to give each others hugs and love.
But you only shake hands while wearing a glove.
Those who are rich in money,
and nothing else,
that have thier names carved into emblems,
use money to solve thier problems.
War will break out.
The wealthy,
use money,
to stay stealthy,
to be healthy,
from the chemical gas that is filling a child's lung,
it's true the youth die young.
The rich, the fools.
Money will not be a tool,
to save you from your death,
as you take your final breath,
the gas will go down your throat.
After that, you feel so light, you'll float.
Heaven? No.
You'll go so low.
Feel so cold.
Hell is where you will burn.
Fires will surround you and there will be no place to turn.
Money is no help to you now.
How did I get here? How?
You so selfish and think about yourself.
And now, there is a place where you fell,
you are burning in the depths of Hell.
Heaven is the place to go, instead,
now that you are dead in spirit,
was once rich in only money,
you are the poorest person in burning in the depths of Hell.
After reading this, it kinda looks like I am deeply disturbed. Don't worry. I'm not.
I like it alot to be honset.
Thank you.
Your welcome glad to meet another poet
I thought of this while listening to rap.