I see it all — the glitter, the gold,
Every treasure, every prize to hold.
The gleam, the shine, the silken threads,
I want it all — my hunger spreads.

I crave it, I need it, each gem in my grasp,
To clutch them close, to hold them fast.
Let riches flow, let opulence reign,
I want it all — the pleasure, the gain.

No price too high, no cost too steep,
I’ll gather it all in a greedy sweep.
Pile it up high, to the heavens it’ll rise,
I want all the splendor to dazzle my eyes.

Give it to me, every glittering prize,
Don’t care for its worth or its demise.
If it’s denied, if it slips through my clutch,
It’s worthless, it's nothing — it means not much.

For I want it all, no matter the name,
If I can’t have it, it’s all just a game.
The things in my world are mere fleeting charms,
If they don't serve me, I’ll cast them to harm.

Thrown to the side, left out in the cold,
Broken like toys, forgotten, unsold.
They matter no more once their shine starts to fade,
I’ll move on to others — to new conquests made.

The same for people who come in my sphere,
Friends, lovers — all draw near, then disappear.
If they don’t feed my thirst, if they don’t heed my call,
They’re thrown away like trinkets small.

For I am a queen, and my greed has no bounds,
No limits to the riches that my world surrounds.
I want them all kneeling, each heart in my palm,
To bow and to give, or be met with my scorn.

I’ll cry, I’ll shout, I’ll tear the night,
Till what I want is brought to light.
I’ll beg, I’ll scheme, I’ll rage, I’ll whine,
Till every desire, every need is mine.

And in the end, as my kingdom grows,
I’ll have all the treasures, the jewels, the shows.
But empty still, my grasping hand,
For all that I crave, I can’t withstand—

The hollow echo of a wanting soul,
That nothing can fill, no riches console.
All mine, all mine — yet something’s amiss,
All mine, all mine — but emptiness persists.

For greed is a hunger that swallows whole,
A thirst unquenched, a bottomless hole.
And though I seize, I clutch, and I cry,
The truth remains: no wealth can pacify.

But still, I’ll take, I’ll want and demand,
For who am I, without the command?
A queen of nothing, if I cease to grasp—
So I’ll hold and hoard, till my last gasp.


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© lowly.do.not.use