A Poor Man’s tragedy

Then, when I gorge on that last piece of bread,
Veer my thoughts to where I would have to tread,
For the next morsel to appease my hunger,
Regretting for not having wealth, I look back in anger.

Memories fade of opportunities gone by,
Where, I would have made good, if only did I try.
Now, I have nothing to call mine,
Neither money for a home, wine or dine.

My cries are neither seen nor heard,
Cause, I am just a useless free bird.
My plight may cause agony to many,
But, still nobody will part with a penny.

Is it me who is responsible for my misery?
My poverty has left me tired & weary.
I cry now, for want of wealth,
Which would provide me with everything, nice clothing & fine health.

This, then is my tragedy,
For which, now, there seems no remedy.
P.C. HASHIR

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