the profit that came to you
at the cost of my redemption
the recompense I paid
just like a Midwest highway
the tolls they bleed for use
the value of what is measured
set by others at my expense
you pocket the small stipend
my love, my heart, my soul
moving on to the new quarry
an unsuspecting host
never looking over your shoulder
there's nothing that holds you back
a conscience not left muddled
your scruples still unimpaired
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
1 comment:
Good job on the topic of being used.
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