Sunday Brunch

The same cross you nail someone else's sin to; will be the same one used to advertise you. The day gold became more important than bartering; was a time the world had been bought, and short-changed. The time the world had been short-changed; was the moment within ourselves, our heart was corruptible. The moment our heart was corruptible, prompted our souls scattering. Now we see people selling their souls for worthless pieces of paper. And we fashion ourselves as unrecognizable characters. Woke people scream amongst the loudest traffic, but no one listens because gold keeps on glistening. The crowd will pass an empty cross, and not ignore it. They pick the ugliest sin possible and say you deserve to be on this. While going to Sunday brunch, knowing they too, deserved it. Now, I ask you, was the gold worth it?