NaPoWriMo Day 7 : Ballad of The Coins

A penny for your thoughts?

Someone once told me that my thoughts are worth so much more because they carry the image I have of who is willing to pay for them.

The thought of exchanging monetary rewards for affection neither admiration has ever ceased to baffle me.

For some awkward reason wealth feels the need to make the king of poverty lay down with his crown of thread made of shattered homes and of thorns made of inner coexisting happiness.

A dime for your dreams?

My dreams denote my consciousness as the only value they have is to be sold at an open market and the Rockefellers will sell them back to me and make me believe that these dreams have never raced my mind at night before.

And I will cease to sleep, and if I do it will be on Solomon’s throne.

A cent for your smile?

To sell nor neither give you something I barely own is a conspiracy because I only borrow it from the inner flesh of my cheek

A dollar for your world?

The world is at work and not even Mother Nature is paid for the trees she neither births nor is father time depreciated for pausing our lives as he fast-forwards our minds

One can sell you pieces of their inner being, as they are not for thee, they shall never make thine happy.