Superficial

by Anthony   Oct 8, 2005


The worth of life not measured,

The pain of death ignored.

The price of jeans is treasured,

Grand opening's adored.

Nothing of value matters,

Everything of money idolized.

Mad for not winning,

When living life should be the prize.

You worship the Hand of Midas

More than you value life.

Going down the moral path

Is your idea of strife.

I'm sick of your conceitedness.

I refuse to further try.

If you love someone other that yourself,

You'll find me before I die.

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Latest Comments

  • 18 years ago

    by Atomic

    Ending of poems are very important me, and let me tell you, the ending of this poem was splendid. You know what I'm talking about, right? The period.

    Nah, I'm kidding.

    "I'm sick of your conceitedness.

    I refuse to further try.

    If you love someone other that yourself,

    You'll find me before I die. "

    ( )_( )
    (='.'=)
    (")-(") Arrivederci!

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