Poem
By FIDELIS SUKINA
Take my hands and warm them.
I’m but cold and anxious,
Wayward and crooked.
Life is but a dream,
But reality is a back lash,
My utter disgrace is my poverty.
My long lost sovereignty,
I lay in asylum for you aid.
Take me and rescue me,
A life of endless misery.
I was told by pastors and priests,
The poor can go to heaven.
But I didn’t sell my riches to be poor,
A statistic of injustice,
An aimless ingrate.
Only death will bring the peace.
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