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 Plight of the Poor
The pressing things that arch the fore,
    and hang the baggy eyes
Are but a few more things
 against the poor,
    Among men despised
Whose tears water the weighty sand,
   forsake their pride and pray
At dawn search the barren land,
        A few scraps today
Fighting for space among the rats,
    No one hears their cries
Against their hopes men are set...
    poking them in the eyes
Like wandering birds they build a nest,
    In and out they peep
They'll never really get true rest
    Until the eternal sleep
It's a shame in order to get some peace
     A man would have to die
Though his heavy burden is released
   Men just skip on by

copyrights 2006
Robert Anthony James

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