Stupidity is a luxury

And quite frankly,

Like most luxuries,

Only the rich can truly afford it.

Wealth, money, filthy lucre.

Would you trade the world 

For circular slices of metal?

For squares of shredded trees?

It's not as if you can go to a store

And by groceries with the groceries 

you pick up off the shelves.

So why do it with our limited resources?

I'll confess, father,

I'm a suburban white-boy,

I'll take my hail marys

And be on my way back to my home

Where a family fights over what food to throw away in order to make space in the fridge,

Where a family fights to dull their minds in front of a plastic screen,

where love is defined by a book rather that the heart,

where you can only be yourself as long you are acceptable.

Please forgive them, father,

for they know not what they have done.

Stupidity is a luxury,

and quite frankly,

like most luxuries,

only the rich can afford it.