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Poem

Iam crying  for freedom; Yes, freedom, I am losing my value.
I was used  as trade by   barter and I  lost my values,
you  forced me into paper, my value depreciated.  
For you to carry me about;  you  forced me into plastic- credit cards
What have I done to you? 
I promised myself never to come back in the next world.
Crimes I committed not;  I settled. When will you pay for your  own crimes without  dragging me to pay?
I became significant in the world of  bribery and corruptions;
what have I done to deserve the cry in my heart? 
 Stay away from me;  you that  love me. 
 If I  fly away;  the  voice  of  the poor saying into my ear:  there's no money –“economic meltdown”.
Tell  the rich to grant me freedom from wherever I am kept.
Yes Freedom!  I paid for everyone’s  freedom but nobody think of mine.
Until the poor  start to fight  for my freedom;
Their pocket will remain dried while the rich get  richers.
 War against the rich, and get me freedom once and praise me in your homes.
where are you money? 
The poor cried. In  the pocket and private banks, and savings in their homes; there I  will be  find. 
The rich are the cause  of my scarcity; Iam lonely in their private bank accounts , separated from the joy the poor.
Spill their blood and you will find me available again.
The rich are the root  cause of all evil and not me –money.
Written by:
Pastor Emmanuel Brown.

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