Get Your Premium Membership

THE STRUGGLE

HE STRUGGLE Heated walls Suffocating air Warm bed sheets Soft, steaming pillow. Prickly heat, Trickling sweat Crossed midnight, exhausted body The cock’s crow disturbed my rest Need to rush to the field , For the day’s bread. That’s the life of a poor man. The rich have a life Just contrary to it. How do you feel? They hold one, a pot-belly. Beer and whisky Fatty special for a bulky body Persecute the vehicle, They often travel Unlimited consumption Air-conditioned bed rooms Soft beds with fitting companions Rich and poor, you need Only six feet of soil. What do you say?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.