Gall, dad
If I had my way with money
I would make something out of it
A house of credit cards
Write my poems on all that paper with no true value
I mean
You trade your thoughts for George Washingtons and Abraham Lincolns
Well
I keep mine
To help make more
People
Like the ones on our currency, but currently
I don't think you understand where I'm coming from
And as I sit here
Tapping away with my thumbs on an electronic device that you thought made up for my childhood
I wonder
What did you trade for me?