A Vending Machine In Nashville, 2013
Head or tails is that your good side or the bad
shiny, worn, new, old, smart, stupid societal
cash register?
We all get piled up.
Your denomination tells your class: two cents or fifty
indentations of personality ealge, flag, ego or in
God do you trust?
Fold a twenty the right way
Now do you believe in hell?
No. I know your type: the fake quarter the boy
scored, poor and bored at the railroad tracks
bashed, smashed, beaten, used.
We all get piled up.
God only collects the shiny coins.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.