Mental Wealth*

Much recent talk on mental health
Would seem to be skewed by the presence of wealth,
The young, the rich and famous,
Who may not remain nameless,
Speaking out on how it feels
When your world has lost appeal.
Something quite incongruous
To the ordinary rest of us
Labouring under contemporary illusion
That money somehow eradicates confusion;
That income equivalent to the GDP
Of any self-respecting developing country
Changes things immeasurably
In terms of popularity.
But while they’re clearly genuine,
They’re subject to opinion:
Relentless public scrutiny
A trending kind of mutiny
Deconstructing all that’s said
To leave the Reader seeing red,
Finding fault in small details
Describing how a person fails
In spite of, or perhaps because,
They lived the dream
And felt the force
That being on a pedestal
Is a very particular kind of Hell,
With glittering wealth for all to see
As proof of doing wonderfully
When all that’s actually sought
Is a kind of Last Resort,
A place of chosen privacy
For chosen friends and family:
The very world they’ve risen from
Hair-triggered like a time bomb.
Just imagine how it feels,
Your private universe publically revealed,
Then sit back in your ordinary space
And ask yourself
Would you trade your place…?


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