Curse you, currency!

You persuade everyone into believing that they need you,

When it is actually themselves and each other that they require.

You make me a slave to your quantity,

You grow the greed within me,

Making me aware of every single digit.

You are hardly ever there for the people who really need you,

Always corrupting even the greatest of hearts,

And creating the most awkward moments.

It is such a shame that the question, "What do you do for a living?"

Has become synonymous to the question, "What do you do to make money?"

Bringer of nutrition,

Bringer of health,

Bringer of shelter,

Bringer of security?

More like hindrance to fruition,

Focus on false wealth,

Aspiration melter,

Banishing us to obscurity!

I wish to stand still against the current,

All should be rewarded for just honesty, merit, and skills,

But this ideal utopia is what currency kills.