screw that…where’s my money

“screw that… where’s my money?”
I asked the guy beaten half to death.
I saw him bleeding and I did not care.
He tried to explain why he didn’t have it all
But I was in no mood for any explainations
For I also too, needed to repay someone
Who’d beat me half to death for his money too

He opened his wallet and gave me the paper
And I stood there counting it one by one
“This is only half, where’s the other?”
I demanded to know.
And yet I didn’t listen to what he said.
His explanation didn’t carry any value to me
Because I did not need it then.

As I walked down the busy road
To the man’s house to whom I owed
I pondered on the situation I had just been in.
Would the same happen to me
Would the guy I owed money to do the same
Would he beat me because I didn’t have the full amount
Or was he of a kinder nature

And as I took fast paces down the street
I recalled the guy I had just beat up
Talk something about his wife and kids
And some strange situation he was in
I recalled him spitting blood
I recalled him groaning and moaning in pain
It was then that I decided
to take him to the hospital
And what I paid.. was the money I took from him

So.. what did I gain from this you ask
Just a lesson I think.
That money makes a man a monster
And kills his morals and values.
And I realised that
I should have focused on the “that” than the money
when I asked the question
“screw that…where’s my money”

 

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