Compassion Capital

How can anyone find compassion
in a world where "love" is spelled "M" "O" "N" "E" "Y"?
Is there any hope in this miserably overcrowded place, any hope
for the lonely soul who has lost so many loved ones,
for the soul so alone in this world and
about to sorrowfully fall through the cracks?
Sometimes, you just don't know how you got here,
and you can't even tell where "here" is.
You could be poor, rich, or somewhere in between,
and the lonely solitude still hits you like a ton of bricks,
silently weighs down on your chest and
keeps you paralyzed for hours as you constantly ask yourself
where your life took that wrong turn.
And while you're still looking for at least one sincere friend,
everyone else is still looking for another paycheck,
another score in the hustle, another sucker to con,
as if dead presidents were the only people that really mattered.
They'll only have but so much compassion on any soul
if there are enough dead presidents in it for them.
And in the end, those very people will be so poor,
the only thing they'll ever have is a whole lot of money.
---
It's easy to find friends in a place
where people are loved and things are used.
But how can you find any friends in a place
where things are loved
and people are
used?

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