Curses Of The Rich Poem by Korede Abiodun

They have all they want
But lack, Content
ion
Like a crab timer.
Thinking of the Night-Marauders
Then they develop heart attack;
Fortune might fail
To smile on them.
Woe might befall them
Rich ones,
Eating the goodies of the life
Which in wise comes with doom
It has its own Damn.

Rich one marries of the Beauty
Descendant of some mystic.
But they don't last with 'em
Perfects are no ones' women
And then it comes to dead end
End up with someone else
Now they run,
Heather sketter.
Their life is shortened by stress
Rich buy friends with riches
Not save with the public
Curse how they make money
But wouldn't want to scavange

Rich ones
Poor rich ones