I used to crave money.
I used to crave the air of affluence that teased,
The arrogance of opulence that taunted,
The grandeur of always having more that mocked me.

And so I chased money.
I chased money underground into the soil of sharecroppers,
Across the assembly line of Ford's automobiles
& up the ladder of an Amazon corporation specializing in exploitation.

I chased money from street corner to corner office,
until night turned into day and day turned into night,
And right into the mirage of the white picketed fence of the American Dream.

But I was money
Back when my body was a commodity, bought and sold
To fund the creation of one of the "best" nations¬–
I was once the most valuable thing on the market.

I bled for money
Because when they generated wealth, we generated welts
On the backs of those who labored for your luxury,
Who still continue to taste the rejection of any sort of reparation.

So it is not that I crave money,
I am just tired of being capitalized for it.