They Pay Us To Be Poor Poem by Dave Stafford Sinclair

They pay us to be poor, categorize us in work,
to make us look at one another like dirt.
Nough of us don't even know pant from skirt
but I know what I'm worth
I'm a human being, my heart is pure and clean.
Who tell them say to turn me off the seen.
True nough a them eat pork and beans,
that's why they be acting so mean.

True you're earning a dollar, I'm earning a quarter, that's
why you're acting like you're better
Soon or later the unseen turn the chapter,
then you gonna remember
Not because you went to college, think you're intelligent more than me.
Not because you're driving a fancy car, think you're better than me.
Not because you're in a position, think you're more secure than me.
Who the hell are you? To come disrespect me!