She sits up at night waiting for him to come home
But he's sitting at the bar are alone
Complaining about how unfair his life is
No sports car, and that promotion should've been his
He thinks that he's got it so rough
But the lives of his neighbor are much more tough
They live each day by eating scraps
Everyday, on the verge of collapse
Suffering from malnutrion, flirting with death
Almost to the point of their last breath
No job to pay the bills
No heat to warm away their chills
So go ahead, pity your great lives
And hate you very loving wives
Continue your spending and your frugal buying
While your fellow man sits there dying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Powerful message, Nick! We should all count our blessings, no matter how few we THINK they are! There's always someone worse off! Dawn xxx