Original Poetry 2011.
Can’t find a cure
Wish things back
To the way they were
When we did not lack
We had enough
Now it’s so hard
This life is tough
Dealt a bad card
Gotta play my hand
Maybe tomorrow
I can try again
To be the sorrow
It’s so irritable
We cry over paper
It’s so terrible
To rely on paper
Burn it, learn it, set yourself free
No money, no worries, sounds good to me
JPlatt 2011
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