Note: anything I write down here is nto against anyone, it is only a view I have on some subjects and do not mean to offend and no-one should take it that way. Money Dream The urban streets of buildings so tall, Skyscrapers, Statues, masterful creations, They are the nation’s legs, With happy households full of dollars, That’s the dream, But dreams don’t always come true, And this dream I see, Walking the urban streets, Tears of children, So alone, they weep together, None dreamed this, They hate their parents, And so right they should, Anyone can be called mother or father, But only some, Can be called Mom and Dad, Called a mistake, Beaten for it, Never should have been born, That makes you nothing to them, It echoes so painfully in your ears, Now, You never wanted to have been born, Cold tears slither down your cheek, The knife is your only friend, In the lonely urban streets, Of The Broken America
