The rain pours unforgiving,
wind chills to the bone,
no morning kissed by sunshine
ever warmed a bed of stone.
The skyline telling story’s,
so tall it hides the truth,
lying in the shadows
epitaphs are proof,
that idle are the promises,
and deeper is the debt,
for burning the Injustices
they want you to forget.
That man I turned my head from
that grey and sunken face,
what if luck had burdened
and put me in his place?
Austerity rewarded him
no dignity or bread,
some say it is the price to pay
believing that they care?
silent destitution,
cruelty thousandfold,
rich men don’t go hungry,
tonight outside it’s cold.
-
Author:
Pedro (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 8th, 2022 02:15
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments2
"Rich men do't get hungry" boy, did that line get to me. Here's to those that have to brave the elements, left without dignity or bread. Sombre poem.
Thank you, this started as a song many years ago that didn’t get finished, and the ‘rich men’ part was going to be the chorus, and so ended up the end of the poem as I felt it was the most on point ending and the title of the poem spoke for itself
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