”Where do you live?” they ask sometimes.
“I live in Dystopia Cash Planet” I answer back.
They call it The Blue Planet, but it is not.
It’s green as money buying everything.
It’s green as our brain looking for excuses.
It’s pale grey as rain writing post-it notes in windows
with words that you forget all the time.
We have a lot of religions, cultures, bad habits,
myths, fairy tales, nightmares, national pride,
but we are all green inside
and our hearts are a one-dollar bill.
As all dystopias, ours will end up bad,
like in the movies when the sun collapses
and everything dies.
“Where do you live?” they ask sometimes.
“I live in Dystopia Cash Planet” I always answer back.
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