The Least Of Us Poem by Matthew Ray Long
The Least Of Us
The least of us.
A man named Custus Rust.
If you are flush, he is bust.
Nothing nice for Mr. Rust.
He thought he could get ahead, was just on the cusp.
Then he broke his leg at work and peed in a cup.
Now he lives down the road just a spell.
His cardboard mansion has such a smell.
Pride and place have kept him down, all he owned was that box and his dog when laid in the ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 2:04:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
