Money makes the world go round

Or so my father told me

If you can’t find prestigious work

You’ll live in poverty

I understand his message

Much of living has a cost

But monetary motivation

On my puerile mind is lost

I dream longingly of travel

Reaching galaxies unknown

Swimming seas and climbing mountains

The entire earth my home

I dream of art unfettered

Creativity uncontrolled

I dream of making my own path

Without having to be told

I dream of perfect beauty

Finding love beyond compare

A family to call my own

And take true comfort there

Yet I find when my eyes open

I am back where I began

A dull and lifeless classroom

With a paper and a pen

I regurgitate the answers

Memorized, not understood

Lines of ink devoid of meaning

Teaching neither bad nor good

Money makes the world go round

Monotonous and drab

I’ll return again to dreamland

For the life I cannot have