The Poorest Of The Poor - Poem by joshua treece
The poorest of the poor
I had it the hardest of all for I was the poor man that you would see
On the streets, with no money to live and enjoy life.
I would roam the streets in the night.
I walked along the streets looking for food in trashcans.
People walking down the streets would look at me like
A killer out to kill people.
I look at people that walked by me and thought “Why can’t I
Have money and live a good life like they do? ”
“I’ve tried to set a cup out and make money that way.”
“I’ve went to the park and tried to steal some lady’s purse.”
“I’ve tried to get a job or two everywhere I go and they would say
They are not going to have anyone else come and work for them
They looked at me and said that they do not what some man
That lives on streets to work for them.
Then I would go back to my box in one of the back allies.
I would lay there and think “What can I do to make money? ”
I slowly fall to sleep listening to the sounds of the street
Cars driving by and the people
Walking, talking about their day at work. Then
The next thing I knew I am dreaming of a life
With rich people that have big homes and money.
Comments about The Poorest Of The Poor by joshua treece
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda