Life becomes much harder when I'm so poor.
I worry on how I'll catch up on rent,
I can't buy food at the grocery store...
Where, oh where, has all of my money went?
I'm kept under thirty hours at my job,
Paid close to the minimum hourly wage -
So on healthcare.gov, I can still shop,
But without employer help, I do rage!
Sixteen dollars per month, earned in food stamps
Do not stretch very far - maybe four meals?
Does not eating right lead to muscle cramps?
I don't know. Doctor's fees are so unreal.
So, that's a peek at my painful pinches
Of poverty, at which my heart wrenches.
04 May 2017
"Poverty Laments" (P.o.t.D. 5/4/15, no rev)
Labels:
finances,
meter,
pentameter,
poetry,
rhyming,
true_story
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