People fed lies all their lives,
Could care less about a fiscal cliff.
Or if a sweet potato pie is baked from scratch.
Too many have lived in or near poverty,
With a priority to eat...
Under a roof that does not leak.
With ends on a weekly basis,
They remain hopeful again with faith to meet.
Only those given preferences,
To get their entitlements met...
Are threatened by nightmares,
Of not receiving more loans...
To brag about their 'good' credit,
That allows them to stay in debt.
With impressions to address...
While inspecting what's at the local mall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem