The poor people live in glass houses.
That is all they can afford.
Once in awhile, they buy cakes for their children’s
Birthdays, but otherwise, they cannot afford a thing.
Hunger is a strange thing. It gnaws away at your gut,
And affects your bones.
See with your inner eye. Do not let crimson colors fool you.
I have found I am burdened by the darkness that surrounds me,
And nothing is more foolish than the darkness that is within.
Tell me why do you not listen to your innerself,
Why do you speak darkly? I have no room to say anything
Memories spark anger that questions all of my yesterdays.
Tomorrow I may not be here anymore. I am not foolish.
The love is in the darkness.
The loneliness is in the flesh.
What is it like to be poor? I wonder about that every day now.
I wonder about a lot of things, like the way you seem to trip over
The front door on your way into the house, the way you smile
At me sometimes, your eyes flashing brilliantly.
The crowd is in the movement. Love is not always enough.