Chrome

On a day when the sun is shining,
The spoiled adults and adolescents whining,
Though it is wealth that they comprise,
(This is happiness at their surmise)
Ignorance continues to arise.

Their children shall only eat,
The finest and most expensive meat,
And at their mind’s defeat,
Only to know a paper leaf.

They shall never play,
On a non-sunny day,
They shall never speak,
To one who’s financially weak.

No Pee-Wee football, no Little League,
They might get hurt or skin their knee.

No need for a father-son evening catch,
There are video games to replace things like that.
No bedtime stories, no kiss goodnight,
“Just listen to your Ipod with the blue backlight.”

These rich only procreate,
To have young minds to calibrate.
Power is felt as they regulate,
Their parents’ beliefs to simulate.

It’s a sad cycle, circling around,
Children growing, their minds money-bound.
Relationships are foreign, allowances only known,
Completely ignorant, to a life not plated with chrome.