To Be Rich
Can be the main issue
That weakens our youthful
Veins and marrow,
Always on the move
To get more than
Our daily need,
Our struggle to make it
Led us to be-friend death
And real goons and madmen,
That causes our destruction
And self pity with fear
That beholds our trust in ransom,
We sniff and drink
To hurt someone
Very close to us
Without respect,
Mothers deserve simple respect
Let’s not be mean to all humans
Lets no harm our amiable brothers,
Wealth can be made
Out of bad dealings,
Can’t live to smile
At the end of the game always.
poem by Garba Inuwa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
