They don’t tell stories about people anymore

just rich assholes

being rich

If they could tell a story,

they’d have to say something important.

They don’t know what’s important

beyond that they’re in all the right rooms

and all the right places

I went left and got left behind

Been a while since I’ve had two dimes

to rub together

Maybe I should sell out and be like them

It’s fine

I’m just rambling on spite and poetry

on New Years Day

Hoping against hope this year will be different

this time

And what if I am like them

And I’m a lie?