POVERTY'S GRIP

O yes! Who dares to dispute?
Is it not true that with penury insecurity thrives?
The poor may smile and say "fine" but untrue
Yet he suffers in life's journey and die

Oh! How he treasures rags, slums and shanties
Exposed to the vexing pangs of hunger
With hapless thoughts though he prays like mantis
The frustration of having nothing breeds his anger

Most times he breaks brotherhood
And dent his soul with vices of decay
Truth becomes alien_ no longer understood
For his eyes are set on greener pasture far away

It's a fight though unplanned for
Most are born into this battlefield
With little_ sometimes nothing to depend on
Save the grip of poverty's cold feet

He becomes susceptible to antics that fuel lungs
Play pranks or draw blood to keep his heart beating
Because survival cum comfort his heart seeks to belong
He strives to eat or die seeking

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