Pockets and Pretty Things

I don’t really exist.

Though I was created to make the world a better place,

an easier game,

but I’m not really worth much at all.

I’ve been everywhere and

I’ve seen all types of people.

Everyone wants a part of me,

more than I can give.

I am love.

I am hate.

I am art.

I am pain.

I am never enough.

I am more than enough.

I am a poor excuse for a saviour.

For I will enslave you

You will worship me

though I am corrupt

You’ll lie awake at night and wonder when I’ll arrive

Your heart will ache for just a little more of me

I am exhilarating

I am debilitating

and inadequate

I am needed

I am wanted

though not readily available

I create beauty

I create beasts

I’m insufficiently distributed

though easily manufactured

And I’m in charge

I decide who you think’s in charge

I control what’s up, what’s down

I fuel wars and terrorism

I fuel freedom and red carpets

I fuel hunger and homelessness

I give life and take it away

I am yours

You are mine

I’m archaic

I’m stupid

I’m brilliant

I’m paper and coin and numbers on a screen

I’ve survived countless revolutions

And I can make change

But I depend on your ability not to.

*** Written for the #NBR August Prompt Challenge: write about the stupidest yet most meaningful and poetic thing you can think of. 

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