Bullseye in the Bull Market

in poem •  6 years ago 



Wrap it up in a plastic bag
it's all trash, isn't it?

The hellos and goodbyes and all
the droning chatter in-between.
Social waste.
The cheapest currency in the world.

A few words.

More is printed every day.
Being reshuffled.
Changing hands.

It's got one hell of an exchange rate.
The fees are too high.

Deep breath and regurgitate.

Drive that economy deeper
into steep spikes.
I always wanted to buy stock.

But seems all has been sold
to the highest bidders.

Baby, I'm broke.



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