Change. Pocket change.
Tinkering round between felt and lint.
Worth every cent.
Where is rent?
I'm bent, over myself-
Trying to find a way to pay
People shouldn't have to live this way
Someday, they say
Sorrow holds us all deep, my child
Inner and outer is just one made up game
I will find a way to make the change
Glass jars filled with copper pennies
Dropping sounds of clanking memories
What do I say to myself when I'm not listening?
How much of me is lost for even me to see?
Is it clear to you?
Do you see through?
Is this just word play to cover up-
Fears that I'll give in to make a buck?
And then I'm stuck.
No. Never. Not me. Couldn't be-
I was once lost, but now I am free
Beliefs are just thoughts you think over and over
But that doesn't mean I don't pick four leaf clovers
Wish for me, and I wish for you
I hope it keeps going just as it's supposed to