Poverty

O free me of this shackle, it has entwined me like a vice, Can’t you hear me cry out or my piteous moans and sighs? I cannot bear it anymore--- it is too much for me to bear, It’s too much for me to endure, this cross will you share? Amidst luxury and plenty you were fortunate to be born, So you may look down with superiority, derision and scorn, But you might have been in my shoes and I perhaps in yours, I might have been the lucky one and you drowned in woes, If it were a reversal of fate, would you appreciate being me? Poor I am not by choice, its harsh compulsion, and destiny.