He has no supporter

He couldn’t make things better

He hears the elites say “wealth is sweeter”

  All he owns are bitter

To survive, he has to borrow

He wonders when to stop the sorrow

   He doubt for better tomorrow

is the exit long and narrow?

Angry man he wants to kill with sword and arrow

   Nobody shows him sympathy

 yet people say “He lives with apathy”

His belongings are petty

His pockets are empty

He doesn’t get respect in the vicinity

He wish to have belongings that glitter in

large quantity

   Yet his effort are on futility

The elite show no pity

They only know how to party

oh! he is dieing of low faculty

  There is no more quality

He ask himself “why am I embraced with

poverty”

No wonder anywhere he turns to, people

hiss

And now he realise, that “poverty is a disease”