Looking at your face,
her eyes, shredding your grace.
No silk and lace,
nor anything for a good base.
Watching her sit there,
your thoughts, judging her so unfair.
All your wealth and still nothing to share,
All your health and the less you care.
Views crossing eachother,
two in tears, the other couldn't bother.
One isn't a martyr,
but the other isn't a saviour either.
The cold reallistic poverty,
or a fake golden journey.
Being accused for anarchy,
or a checkbook armory.
...the ugly reality.