Another Dead Pauper Thoughts...

Another Dead Pauper thoughts…

Who’ll take my place as a pauper,
when I die horribly from being poor.
Will they say it’s right and proper,
to pick another who’ll die for sure.

Strange to write or speak of death,
when I feel it’s hand on my shoulder.
You can smell it’s sour, rancid breath,
every day as you strive to be older.

Fear it, say no, they say it’s inevitable,
that means it’s pretty much a certainty.
Of course I wish it was avoidable,
me thinks I’m in a gang of plenty.

But still I hope they are more giving,
not for me or even my dead shell.
For the poorest still left here living,
a life barely much better than hell.

Oh I know there are a lot of detractors,
even more who will soundly just disagree.
The most emulous are usually our factors,
from a society where even water is not free.

If from our water they must make a profit,
then they tax as we earn to pay their wages.
As far as earths concerned I’d rather be of it,
than let the bastards grind me down in stages.

See we come from water it’s our life’s blood,
nature uses it’s clarity in everything around.
From a most beautiful animal to flowering bud,
we are this ~elemental wonder~ so profound.