(x = space)

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The Impoverished

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It is another day

To wake up into misery

Sometimes a vivid

Dream

Takes me to

A place that is not

So spectacular but

I want to live there

And I wake up

And I’m here

I wake to the gray skies

Of war

Or my child is

Still sick

Or my child is gone

My children

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There is my own pathology

It hurts

And there is no promise

Of change for the better

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I wake into many

Who have problems

And they seep

Or crash into awareness

I have no money

Or my clothes are poor

My shoes don’t wrap around

My feet

So I have trouble moving

And I’m seen first

For the problems that I have

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I’m seen first

For the problems that I have

That’s how my friends know me

Or my family

Or anyone

First, I am the sad one

Or the needy one

The one with problems

I am an individual

Also a family

Or a nation

I grow to hate waking up

Like this

I grow to hate waking up

Can someone make

The day better?

Can I?

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A song could name this

But is no breath

For singing

There is no cause

Or there is

And I forget

It’s been too long

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I could say, Help me

But I don’t know how

Sometimes it’s

Antagonistic

The responses that I get

When I used to ask

Mostly it’s apathy

With closed pockets

I never get close to,

Which is fine

I don’t want your pockets

I want my own

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I want what I used to have

Or maybe never had

I want what I need

And a little more

So I am ready

When I hear of

Need

Someone

A family

Or a nation

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To give out of what I have

And a little more

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C L Couch

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Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash

The Other Way

published 2 hours ago

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