Money
There is this funny number
that shows up in the inbox every week
a reminder from the bank
they want me to be responsible
it says how much I can use others
who would rather not be used
or maybe they would, but if it were me, they would not
they'd have something else better to do.
Money, I hate you, I need you, it seems
because I am confused
because we are confused
because I don't know what the other wants
or if I know, and maybe I do
(some days, not up to me, nor to you)
my heart won't admit it.
I think it's my heart, at least
and I don't know how to show what's true
to the other, the world, my heart
without being cruel
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