Poverty is not in my blood.
Indeed! I have experienced a flood;
Not of money but blood
Of the innocent buried in the mud.
I don’t get why it’s my fault
When I’m only a pure being–
Ignored to live in a bin;
I wonder, if the government could be more mean.
What becomes of the world
When the rich gets richer
And the poor gets poorer?
But when politics comes, we become significant to the world.
Our death means nothing!
For growth, we feed on anything
Our problems to them are trifling
But I’m sure, we deserve everything.
Blame me not, and neither our parents;
It could be you, born as indigent
To dress in rag ,while you watch the affluent
Indeed we are lost– we forger the judgement.
Who is to blame?
The unfulfilling government
Or the stingy rich who chooses to be arrogant
Or the selfish human nature, who remains ignorant?
I speak for us, with my pen
Not to be ignored by the minds of men.
Your favours we await and not in tens;
Empowerment you say,
But we also want to earn.