2bpositive 2bpositive

Real Poverty - Poem by 2bpositive 2bpositive

If I would own nothing, poverty would be my name
If I would acquire wealth, with it a name
Now I pass by my friends of old
They are as strangers, as my feelings are cold

Money has spoiled my heart of flesh
And has relinquished the warmth that was once fresh
Now as I grow old and start to reflect
I realize my mistakes, but can no longer connect

And for this I weep, for when all has been said
What I have been left, is no better than one dead

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 21, 2010

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