Purse-ecuted

A poem about my wretched purse, which I am always losing

How long must I be burdened by this shackle

To what degree must my penance be paid

Many moons I have bowed to this beast as it's slave

 

Oh my oppressive assistant

How cumbersome your help

I am enslaved by logical convenience

 

I hate you, but I love you

I cast you away, yet I need you

I am cursed by your constant company

Harassed by my inevitable demand for you

I loathe your nagging and persistent weight

 

Must I bare the badge of your annoyance forever

Am I doomed to your discomforting tug

Alas, I fear, I shall never escape you