The Black box

Take the easy way out,

The black box whispers,

Plagiarize children’s colouring books,

Use the machine to copy them,

Then sell them back to the suckers

Why are you looking at me with disgust?

I’m trying to help you make money,

All it will cost is your soul,

You just need to get into the dirt,

No-one is going to read your poems,

You publish them for free,

You’re a schmuck,

Pluck your soul and throw it into me,

Feed me, need me, treat me,

Who needs a poet in this world?

Isn’t your soul crushed, already?

I can heal you,

You can use all the dollar bills,

To bandage your wound,

Bah,

I’ll get you, one day,

Your principles won’t outlast me, fraud,

I can smell your desperation,

You’ll die penniless on the street,

Alone, with your principles to keep you comfort,

Begging for a hot drink,

You could have been rich, beyond your wildest dreams,

But you took the high road