O' poverty, thou art but smelling
And thy pollution dangerous to life
And the living wailing and crying
Wishing you never existed in the world
As they have no healthy gas for survival

Thou maketh men wander about
For gas, for repast, and for shelter
With no sweet repose in their eyes
With bare footed in the streets
And with no apparels for their mortals

Unprotected they're in the perilous night
And in the light very little hope of survival
Their society looks upon them scornfully
And took you from them the zeal to inhale further

O' poverty, thou art but smelling
For thou hath poisoned many a mortal
And may ruin bedeck thy number of days
As thou art cruel and fiend O' poverty.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 8, 2012

Poem Edited: Tuesday, October 9, 2012

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