The Richest Man Alive Poem by Adams King

I gave my last cup of water
To a widow and her son last night
Who were dying of thirst

Only to wake up this morning
And have my neighbours
Mock my empty cup

I have no food in my pot
For I gave it all to the orphan
Who was hungry yesterday

I have no coin in my purse
For the beggar I saw yesterday
Asked for some of it

The rest I offered to a woman
Whose daughter was lying sick
In the hospital bed

Yet I'm been ridiculed
For having no water nor food
And not even a single coin

I sold all I have yesterday
To save a wounded soul
Who was at the point of death

I gave my all to save the world
My substance and treasures
Yet the world showed no gratitude

I have been selfless for long
To men of different races and kinds
To men near, far and wide

Yet I'm being called a poor man
For their eyes could not see
The golden heart I possess

Blessed they say is he that gives
Than he that stretches his hands
Forward waiting to receive

I have given my last and all
I have practiced a better charity
Till it becomes a habit of mine

I have stored up my treasures
Where the moth exist not
Nor the thieves that steals at night

I have prepared my bed of paradise
Where forever I will dwell
Not a temporary earthly castle

Where men live in fear of loss
Struggling to be better than all
Yet made crippled by death

I may have no water to drink
I may have no food to eat
But I'm the richest man alive