Our Loved Ones’ Belongings

An epidemic is spreading, one that's
upsetting, void of heartbeat and soul.
When opportunity knocks, emptiness
stalks, so slap up a sign―sell dead
people's stuff.

Ashen and hollow, the bottom line
follows the only rule that it knows:
whatever is found, turn it around,
so slap up a sign―sell dead people's
stuff.

An epidemic is spreading, one that's
upsetting, void of heartbeat and soul.
Currency driven, commodity's given,
what happened to meaning―in dead
people's stuff?

My heirlooms are honored, a collection
of keepsakes, memories of family now
gone. The almighty dollar has forced
me to holler: they're our loved ones'
belongings―not dead people's stuff!