Being Poor

A weight that presses down, a burden to bear, A life of struggle, with no escape to share. It's not a choice, but a fate that's been cast, A daily grind, with no respite to forecast. The pain of not having, a gnawing, hollow ache, More piercing than death, with no solace to partake. No one hears our cries, no one lends a hand, We're chased like dogs, with no place to stand. Every morning dawns, with tears that won't dry, Hoping for a change, that may never arrive. We wish for someone, to share our plight, A listening ear, a comforting sight. But friends abandon us, with no explanation given, Leaving us alone, with our struggles unspoken. Our minds are restless, our thoughts a jumbled mess, No peace, no calm, just a constant stress. We beg for accommodation, with no place to call home, People take advantage, and use us, all alone. They exploit our vulnerability, with no regard for our pain, Leaving us feeling used, and worthless, like a stain. The world judges us, with a critical eye, While others pray for our downfall, and whisper "good riddance" by. We talk to the air, to trees and grass, in desperation, Hoping someone, anyone, will hear our lamentation. We pray for a miracle, a glimmer of hope.