The Rich Imprisoner Poem by Alexandra Motschmann

I heard about a person
Making his money with gas
With just champagne in his glas
And living in himself made prison

He let the architect build a villa
Glamorous with lots of space
Inside it seemed a great place
Perfect for a resource guerrilla

Five times a year he travelled to his jail
Surrounded by beautiful landscape
Where he wanted to escape
In the end it was of no avail

As a captive man in his own house
He was not able to enjoy real life
Going out to the streets and be alive
To all the little biergardens and bouse

He had his jailer he called bodyguards
Taking care of him in his own property
Where he lived in rich and wealthy poverty
only seeing the countryside on postcards

Unfortunately angst and fear
Kept him away to get real joy
Having fun like a grown up boy
Every second, minute, day and year.

Poor with all his richness
Poor with all his success