Poem: Poor Man's Penury
Destitute observations.
When last I heard my heartbeat’s peril I struggled along alleyways of molding slums Before my life was incredible, it was terrible So many human pleas I could not escape Until I was free from my destitution enclave These earth-shattered years plucked me from afar A landfill drenched my soul with air pure as water Tented palms beckoning my penniless sorrow Were it not for these hilted matches asunder in fire This blade detached from the rings of my morrow I could not fathom the heat of my quarrel When poverty sings with delights from the bottle
