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I am the fever
People die
But that means
Nothing to me
People try
To smile
So endlessly
But that means
Nothing to me
They shiver
They ache
They groan
While I penetrate
They sweat
Through their eyes
And puke
Through their minds
Sometimes I wish
I would be able to give life
But all I can do
Is make others descend
Into the shiver
Into forever
Into the fever
The Fever of life
My weapon isn't bliss
My weapon isn't guns
Nor is it knives
Or ripped up spines
When I'm not busy
Taking your homes
Or killing your loved ones
I'll press on
To crash your bones
I am the fever
I am the fever
I am the fever of life
This is the source of your agony
[Money]
This is the source of your indignity
[Money]
And I'll make you hush
Forever
[Call me cash]
I am the fever
I am the fever
I am the fever of life
I am the fever
I am the fever
I am the fever of life
I would have to disagree that
I would have to disagree that money is the root of all evil. Methinks that the biggest evil of the world right now is due to a lack of insight into the need for indivual balance, and it is destroying the species from the inside out, but you have a great talent for using adjectives to paint a vivid picture. Twenty years ago I may have agreed with what this poem expresses.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "