Attitude is not a currency rich
To trade offers with
If for what you have
Is close to that which sits
Clogged up in gutters
Waiting again for nature's rain
Angels' tears, to wash out your mess
Lifting a finger is hard I see
A man's wealth is without value
If his attitude stinks on sanity
Absent of realization, blind on sight and smell
That the drains in front of his domain
Are blocked, stacked, clogged up, going nowhere
And killing his bare essence on sanitation
Your surrounding, your post, your kingdom
Are Rome without its aqueducts
Attitude is not a currency rich
To trade offers with, living in filth
If for what you ask for
Is my respect and adoration
Picture by : Mis-adventures in pgh
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