Giving value to something where value was not,
Making things worth nothing, appear to be worth a lot.
Making paper and metal the centre of our lives,
In our society, it’s the only way we survive.
It makes us see things in a different light,
Blurring the lines between wrong and right,
Defining us differently, than if love were to try,
Shifting priorities, and it’s all a lie.
We separate the world, by how much paper they’ve got,
The poorest of which don’t even get a shot.
It affects the whole planet, ever little bit,
Even the parts where it does not exist.
From the world as a whole, to each individual person,
It affects everyone of us, of this I am certain,
On a personal level, my family seems defined,
By this paper and metal, enough of which they cannot find.
I get something for nothing, my parents believe,
But what I lose in exchange, I wish they would see.
I’d rather not have a penny to my name,
And be the me that lives in my brain.
Since I was 16, they have seen me as money,
A source of income, and it’s not very funny,
They don’t see me, their child, I’m a mistake, nothing more,
What my sister told me, makes me even more sure.
I wish they loved me, the way I loved them,
But it’s not me they want, it’s the me in my head.
But I am who I am, not this better me.
I just wish this was the me they could see.
I’ve lost who I am, with their lack of affection,
Trying to be there idea of perfection.
But I’m learning now this impossibility of this,
And how who they see will always be a myth.
Whether it be the money, or the chair that defines,
The choice hasn’t really ever been mine.
I’m stuck in this middle, and now I’m just lost,
All because of this world and what it costs.