Money Trees

They march again to the graveyard

Bodies still sore from the ones they buried yesterday

What took hours now takes minutes

Repetition led to efficiency

They took their positions and did their part

Unending trauma served as anesthesia

Caring humans reduced to numb machines

It wasn't always like this

The heart that once pumped more than blood

Had hope coursing through their veins

The poet had said 

"Flowers will grow where they lie, 

We will water them with the tears we cry"

The land now lined with flowers

felt more barren

The tears dried out

watering an entire forest.

The poet now lies beneath the flowers

A new poem echoes through the streets

"Does it matter how colorful the flowers be?

They will always be smothered by their money trees"