Poem : Everything Comes With a Price

Walking square over the round sewer line,
I thought, "Getting rich" would be fine,
Fine it would be to own a villa and a car,
And to drive her along, a little too far,
Fine it would be to have a good dinner too,
And the fire of alcohol to take me through,
But dreams are dreams and I cannot get that,
Now I have to fence the night with sewer rat,
for now there are no books or street lights,
For now I promise myself - no more red fights,
As I walk down I see a dead man and an open bag,
A bullet in his head and another on the left leg,
He was almost dead, breathing a little every time,
I thought of the open bag more than obvious crime,
I thought of the money in counts of thousands,
I thought of the dreams-all my castle of sands,
Sand and dreams would now fortify the life's essence,
I would rejoice, in a villa and car in her presence,
I ran snatching the bag from the almost dead's hand,
I saw some blood running over the open bundles' band,
I hesitated, didn't I? before running fast away,
Not a thought past me, nor thank-yous did I say,

Now,
In my villa, my place- I rejoice with her, car and my dreams nice,
Everyday my guilt cries to tell me, everything comes with a price