If I had a Million Dollars.

Her eyes are hungry,
Her mouth is dry.
Stomach bulged,
Mother's too high,
to live in reality of the world diminishing around her.
While her children cry, beg, and plea.
She smokes and smokes, oblivious to the stench of rot.

These dreams are not dreams,
but nightmares that haunt my sanity.
I have no money, I have no plea.
Not with the world, not without green.

They cover their bleeding eyes, their deafened ears.
They turn away, for the sake of their "good night's rest"
While I lay awake each night.
Insomnia at it's finest.

Our empty hands resonate from empty pockets.
Our words are not strong enough,
Our cries are not loud enough.
As long as taxes are reigning importance,
and ears are covered by the muffs of greed,
I with my imaginary million will feed and satisfy
so that we too can get some sleep.