I weep, I smile
there are seagulls

I’ve been to a place at
The end of the sidewalk.
In between safety and  
wild debauched nights of
concrete and neon.

It’s a tabula rasa.
Pristine and precious.
I love it there
where creativity and
innocence dwells on the
backs of phoenix birds and
purple pigeons,
and on the slopes of verdant
valleys, lush with cerulean
blue ponds.

The trees all
gave and gave.
Dragon fruit and  
mangoes and
plants that taught me  
things.

Every fish and turtle that
I caught talks of Keroack
and Dali,
dreams, and love.
Serenity,
thick as maple syrup.
I met some surreal people
and creatures in this land.

And every **** one
of them oozed  
compassion and  
truth from  
every pore.

I do not exist
Everyone thinks I do
But I don't

I am an idea
A *****
I am a construct
(That you people are dependent on)

I am an imaginary, non-physical, number on a screen
I am a piece of paper
A card
A circular piece of copper
That is often the determining factor
Between life and death;
Survival in this cruel world

There are ones with much of me
And lucky ones they are
They have access to services
And being treated with the common needs that should come with being here
And being alive

And there are some that are unlucky
And lack me
They live hard lives working and tiring
Even though I don't exist
Who will tell them
That this should be pointless?

I can be stolen
Inherited
Hoarded
And broken

I am manipulated like a game
No one enjoys to play me

I'm supposed to measure
What someone's labor is worth
But I don't

Factors slip by me
Such as garbage men
Almost the same as doctors
Being needed in society

I breed selfishness
And greed
There are so many families I do not feed

I make you feel trapped and worthless
I am cause for death
I should be abolished

What am I?