The Future Poem by Mcanthony Nwatu

I feel pains in my heart
when i try to succeed
but all to no avail.
I knock on the door
of success but its locked;
i seek through the passage
of talents but my hands still empty;
i look at the future
but it seems bleak.
Fear engulf me, stating, will
i ever succeed?
The texture of my heart
is penury. Oh am hands down.
Am astonished by the settings and
outputs of the day because, while
in the boulevard my hands still empty.
Am frightened by this. I ask,
is it the fault of the
almighty or tyrants who are
never contended.
Ewuuh! i fear of dying
poor as been born poor.
but i ve hope.