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I am poor

  • Writer: Siuta Uaisele
    Siuta Uaisele
  • Nov 9
  • 1 min read

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Bottomless fall

Seems endless

A mud buddle he said

A cradle of economic strife

Many have many to say


Bottomless strife

Tell a story

Hard surface of dirt

Dust in our breath

No sugar

There is coffee


It starts somewhere

You

Its here in dusty dirt

Flying leaves

Discard of one's daily rubbish


Hour ends

I have made $28.95


Night ends

I have made $231.60


Week ends

I have made $1158.00


17 years

I will be at 1 million dollars


I must never eat

I must never drink

The free waters of the rivers

The rain

No rent to pay

The side of the road is free


The dream

May remains a dream

Like a forever amen

 
 
 

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