Money

From across the quiet hall
Blonde and stately, regal, tall
She stares with magic-marker eyes
Smiles, while her soul slowly dies.

Money.
Bubbling laughter from a painted face
Glittering, glowing, a beautiful disgrace
Who would ever leave this place?

I would.
Prison bars of diamond and gold
To document how their dignity was sold
To change their hearts from warm to cold.

Magic-marker eyes with a rusty smile
Filled with promises full of guile
Before you fall into a circle of hell
Is money worth becoming a hollow shell?