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?
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