Writers 
The Paper Men Understand
Money,
Such a simple piece of paper,
Yet carrying a weight
That words sometimes cannot explain.
A paper with so much respect,
A paper that can enter a room
Before the person holding it,
And suddenly,
Everyone seems to listen.
It cannot speak,
Yet men understand it so easily.
It has no mouth,
Yet it makes promises,
Opens doors,
Changes decisions,
And sometimes changes people.
Money comes,
And money goes,
Leaving behind nothing but memories
Of what it once made possible.
Some chase it every morning,
Some pray for it every night,
Some lose sleep because of it,
While others lose themselves trying to get more.
It can turn a kind heart cold,
Make a good person choose badly,
And make people forget
The values they once held close.
Funny how something so small
Can have such a powerful voice.
It can create happiness,
But it can also create jealousy.
It can build homes,
Yet break relationships.
It can bring comfort,
Yet bring worries along with it.
They call money
The root of all evil,
But perhaps money itself is not evil—
Perhaps it is what people are willing to do for it
That makes it dangerous.
Still,
It remains that silent paper
The world understands too well,
A paper men respect,
A paper everyone needs,
Yet a paper that never stays forever.
Money comes like a visitor,
And leaves like a memory.