Prisoner Of Poverty

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Just knowing that I am poor,
is a fate crueler than death.
It’s even harder to think straight when i am prisoner of poverty,
while in the cold confines of my cell.
I am lost in thoughts,
imagine there’s mouths to be fed.
No possible job in site,
clothes and food to buy,
but I am broke as hell.
Bills, debts stacking up high,
and I am barely getting by.
Prisoner of poverty that I am,
trapped being these walls,
peeking from steel bars.
thoughts of escaping, constantly plagues my mind.
tirelessly trying to make a plan,
every corner I turn I am surrounded by poverty and his gang.
Poverty your prison can’t keep me down for long,
my plan is to execute the greatest escape.
It might not be today,
but I am definitely working at it for tomorrow.
your feeble minds can’t understand,
for Poverty’s prison I need to get away from.

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