the rich young american
by ric booth
my cell is padded grey on grey
fluorescent shadows flood my days
i sit and type old words so tired
and plod enough to not get fired
i cut from here and paste to there
and meet to scrawl just like i care
and ponder words to rhyme with bored
the heart screams sail but I am moored.
i know there is a better way
still fear is king so here i stay
i earned all this. i worked real hard
to brick my cell, to debt, my bars.
poor envy me, this life i lead
buy all i want and do not need.
they watch me go through one-way glass
refuse to see, i walk on past
one thing i lack, i cannot feed
i crave a faith of mustard seed
Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said.
–Mark 10:21a (NIV)