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Parcel of thought and having no nourishment is poverty,
Not having some clean clothes to wear is poverty,
Dreaming of a good house however not having one is poverty,
Child's so sick however can not purchase treatment, is poverty,
A child is hungry but yearning for a spoon of rice is poverty
Seeking warmth in winter evenings and not getting one is poverty,
Sitting with umbrella on wetting bed in showering night, is poverty,
A poorly, betrayed mother offering her child wishing he'll survive, is poverty.
A crushed and down and out mother harming and slaughtering her child is poverty
THIS BRINGS ME TO MY POEM OF POVERTY
Their skin splashes up the warmth
Abandoning it as dark as the midnight sky,
Their eyes wide, white, arguing
Asking to the bystanders.
They litter the street
Half naked bodies,
Red and shading their feet
Hunting down a passage
A door out of the hover of poverty.
Poverty implies demolition
Demolition implies fear
Behind secured doors they sit early night
Excessively terrified, making it impossible to see a dark face
Alarmed of dark feet crossing the edge.
Be that as it may, why be dreadful of your slaves,
Those you whip and beat
Treating like the soil from the doormat
Where you wipe your feet.
But God is not dead. He forever remains because things will change for good