A poor man's song

Everyday seems just like the other 
when seeking friends seem such a bother 
keeping secrets of our true nature 
from those that we call brother. 

It takes too much to shift this paradigm 
with poetic thoughts that seldom rhyme 
Who really cares what's worth our time 
since telling truth became a crime. 

While colors make our rainbows pretty 
the secrets we seek may seem too petty 
Yet some seek gold in that damned potty 
with Leprechauns that seems so witty. 

Death blows over around the globe 
children die of hunger for lost hope 
when others toss the lassoed rope 
the weak just tumble, scratch and grope. 

Here we huddle around this lonely fire 
with hearts filled with unquenched desire 
waiting for some handout, food or attire 
before someone burns us at the pyre