What Of This Child If Poor Poem by James McLain

What of this child if poor,
If when they should have not more.
I did not want come here to where
You are and do but survive.

Who gave them me I called and I have
Struggled with it all,
For what can I do here, but be a friend,
To none but ghost's or worse to something else.

I discern their speech is off, I can not
Hide nor turn and run.
Hard men like them they only bring me back.
Is there some financial interest in me?

The cave around the river bend is full,
Of those like me, no fire in there can burn.
For what should I do here with bitter word's,
Word's they cannot hear.