Famished For Riches Poem by Prince Rabbi

This small and dirty melancholic house
Is like my famished stomach and heart
Empty yet always howls so loud
Filled with scarce bread we share always split apart

We always have to stay grateful with contempt
To live a day without perishing from hunger
In society we are sympathised in an instant
Yet still mocked and shamed for our stature

We are the outcasts of society as a whole
Always judged for our social status
children made fun of just for their clothes hole
We roam the streets looking for a purpose

Poverty is our prison
And happiness is our mission