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.
-
Author:
DD. (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 8th, 2016 10:12
- Comment from author about the poem: I have learnt recently that money has come to define the way my parents see me. Please believe me when I say I’d give them every penny I had, if meant I could change who I am.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments2
Sorry your parents don't see your real value. From their standpoint it costs $200,000 or more, after taxes to raise a child from birth to 18 years. That is simply the way it is. It's life. My step mom never told me she loved me, but I realized she fed me and clothed me. When I moved out she wrote to me every 2 weeks. I am alive and not in jail. She did her job. All that said you did a nice job with your writing.
Its not the cost of caring for me, that i mean to write about. its more my value only as a source of income to my family
O.K. I understand you now. That is a bit odd. You love and raise a child and release him to the universe, never expecting anything in return. You are saying they did not want you from the start, the relation being more like that of an indentured servant. ----It helps the psyche to vent. Thought provoking writing. Sorry for the misunderstanding.
Its not a misunderstanding, its just a different interpretation im glad you enjoyed the poem either way
thanks for reading and commenting
Sorry your parents are that way, great write though
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.