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Practical Poverty

As poverty got worse I thought about leaving Not far; but weaving. Somewhere I could forget my problems A vacation; a grieving. A place where I could enjoy the sun A place that far. Where liquor was plenty and drugs dependent And I could see the teeth; the smiling back at me; the people's glee Where I was What I was doing The people cared actually. I let them I missed them I wanted them I craved them I went I saw and enjoyed and came back I was home I was happy and I missed them Strangers: not poor practically

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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