My honour

When you point your finger toward me,
I'll break it and teach you about manners,
You're older than me?
So what,
Being at that age should have known better,
Unless you take the shortcuts to be able to smile ever so disgustingly.

Afraid? Fear?
To whom?
To you who only gain powers?
Put your head down,
Cause in everywhere you go,
There it shows,
Written all the sins that you have done,
That power you're holding,
Are only the money that is backing everything,
That piece of paper can never but my honour.

A poor that i am,
Suffering from the development,
But then i am forever thankful,
Heart made of iron,
In facing the everyday challenge,
I'll keep on saying it,
Saying that over and over again,
Proudly,
No matter you flung a big pile of money in front of me,
I still smile widely while refusing it,
As there you are,
Acting like a beggar,
Begging for my attention.