Poverty
Cold, damp and lonely,
an endless cycle of
never ending misery,
masked to prevent fear in
my children.
Small, torn and always
second hand, my clothes
are as dull as grey
stone.
Large, dominant and
mountainous, debt
is forever increasing
over my head; it weighs
heavy on my shoulders.
Dark, gloomy and sombre,
my life is deprived of
happiness; entrapment
is the only feeling
in my mind.
Poverty is what my
daily life seems to
reflect causing others
to make assumptions of
my character; taunts
created cause anger and
sadly shame for I am barely
able to keep afloat in these
dark times.
My home is nothing but a
place of hell; walls peeling,
dampness covered surfaces,
destroying health of many,
food deprived cupboards,
and barely any warmth during
the season of winter.
Poverty, an unspoken creation
seen as nothing but shame,
never accepted within the
worlds of the more affluent
classes.
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