Dishing out dollar bills
is not the way to healing
stockpile success in closets and drawers
drown the sickness you're feeling
in boxes, in things, instead
stack them high like bricks
until the faintest of breezes blows by
a house is made of matchsticks
into this land I sink myself
pouring in every drop of faith that I've got
the runoff is soiled, polluted
unable to soak it in, it pours out over the top
ruin
all for a day
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