Walking down my neighbourhood alleys with no apparent aim,
I was thinking about the umpteenth mistake,
which on my heart weights,
lightheartness being the case.
Scrutinizing every corner of the neglected pavements,
for a bill tended to me by a pitiful invisible hand,
the former snatched out of some wretched by the cold wind, as if it could be my only salvation,
while a voice inside my head kept saying that it doesn't work like this,
we must conquer our dignity with toil,
without indulging in the illusion of a casual life buoy.
A simple combination of numbers being of this turmoil the cause, and the little money given to me by my mother, sucked away in a second...as an offence to her sacrifices to provide me still with a shelter in this age of uncertainty.
We often think that we can change our destiny, or give to our misery a rilief with a stoke of luck, until it becomes for us a deadly trap with no way out.
Possessing as much money as you can, it's a dangerous philosophy which causes people to do evil things in its name!
Secretly behind the curtains the God of Money works its way,
buying as many souls as it can to bring them to perdition.
But this monster, when it isn't enthralled by greed, can also be as holy as an Angel,
Because it is also true that money can fight famine and help people to tolerate better this hard life,
which leads me to the logical conclusion that being unhappy without money makes the big difference
And with my mind deeply absorbed in this dylemma, I eventually find myself in front of my house ready to pay the consequences of my actions.