Curse Of Poverty Poem by BONGOKOBIDA ZAKARIA

Curse Of Poverty



For whom I plied the oars he slapped me
What a curse! All threat me because of poverty

Fly does not go to war with king's sword
Reckless poor I go with happiness of lord

O! God save my respect - path also can hear
Heart trembles with sudden death's fear

People say I am slave of king - work does not pay me

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