When Money Becomes Power
I have known the hollow silence of empty hands,
once full of gold, now dust and fading strands.
I gave my heart in seasons bright and fair,
helping those in need, with love laid bare.
But when the coins ran out, the doors grew cold,
no pennies left to buy a dream or hold.
Help came shackled, wrapped in debt’s tight chain,
not just my money lost, but name and pain.
Hungry mouths like lightning split the sky,
casting shadows, where whispered rumors lie.
Their words—like thunder—crash without a sound,
shaking the fragile ground where hope is found.
Silent storms descend, louder than a scream,
devouring truth, unraveling the dream.
Penniless and weary, hunger gnaws more deep—
not just for bread, but respect we keep.
They drag me into fire’s scorching pit,
complicating all, refusing to quit.
Mockery’s cold rain falls without remorse,
lies like chains that bind with crushing force.
A world unfair, where power’s voice is bought,
where kindness falters, and freedom’s lost.
But in the ruins, a spark still burns bright—
the power of kindness, a guiding light.
Though empty now, my spirit sings clear,
pure as a river that knows no fear.
On paths ahead, I seek that gentle grace,
where smiles bloom soft in a warm embrace.
Copyright ©
Rowena Velasco
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