Brita Roy Poet Rhyme

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.

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Manoj Kumar January 31, 2019 at 11:32 PM Very well written. Godspeed Brita Roy February 4, 2019 at 7:54 AM Thank you Manoj for your appreciation and wishes. It has given me renewed confidence and encouragement.

M. L. Kiser January 31, 2019 at 11:05 PM A well-penned poem of the reality of too many people in this world. Brita Roy February 4, 2019 at 7:58 AM Thank you Kiser for your words of appreciation.They mean a lot to me.