Mean Green

I can taste you in the riches you bring
You pour out  hands like showers of rain in a storm
You start a fire in pockets
Your the blanket for comfort to keep warm 
The security to control the mind 
The light for gladness
in the bones
The secret to all  hidden destructions
The high that takes the place of addiction
It has a voice that's cunning 
 New habits to which it can form
The signature in someones
life 
The root to All Evil.....
"MONEY"
Is the picture I describe in this poem