Infinite Struggle


Hard times I am facing,
no place to lay my head.
In the streets I seek refuge,
white scolded covered lips.
No saliva in mouth,
it has taken a family trip.
Water is such a scarce commodity,
one taste would be a refreshing experience for my thirst.
like something never experienced before.
haven’t eaten in days so my body begins to devour itself,
so much that my appearance is like the skeletal remains of a carcass in a grave.
Tattered and torn clothe,
adorn my dirt filled figure.
The drenched scent of my body odour as it excrete my pours,
could make a skunk rolled over, flat lined in an instant.
Yes I am poor, but why am I poor?
This question reverberates through my skull,
as if construction work as just begun in my head,
I think I will call this one the reconstruction of my brain.
Still block by block,
my peers and I live a life of savagery trying to survive.
Its kill or be killed in this concrete jungle,
where the big lions roam with high powered weapons and side arms that are chrome.
No one to save the damsels in distress,
everyone is stuck in their own mess,
of debts, loans and clouds of financial stress,
forecasted by weather.
Like the towering hand of a giant strangling me to death,
and no matter how I try to find a way out.
it’s impossible for tears are drowned by my fears,
and in this infinite struggle there’s no escape.


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