Tis always money, <br />nothing more. <br />To the piece of gold, <br />we are the whore. <br />Whatever it takes, <br />for whatever is seen. <br />At the risk of our lives, <br />fulfilling our needs. <br />Hypnotized by the shine, <br />on the coin that we see. <br />In this blanket of gold, <br />wrapped up in our greed.<br /><br />saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whores-for-gold/
