Poverty Rich
I am flat broke
Despair I can’t cloak
There is no dope
For which to cope
The cupboards are bare
Another miserly fare
Truck is in a heap
Nighttime is to weep
Daily struggle for pay
Uncertainty holds sway
Love from my girl
Amid all the swirl
Faith I will do right
Pressure weighs heavy at night
Poor am I of money
So God gave to me
An angel He didn’t need
My baby, my angel, my creed
Copyright © Anthony Amero | Year Posted 2010
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