We may be cold and hungry,
Coffers as empty as an ancient tomb,
Acquainted with the measly reward of slave labour,
Hands blistered and hardened,
Feet disfigured by fleas and jiggers.
We bear the brunt of the minority rich,
Looked down upon like scavenging dogs,
Our sweat and blood fuels their wealth,
We neither equal nor match them.
Yet we are rich in many ways than one,
We love and care, we share and live,
We learn and grow in the thick of pain,
Our brains at work with every challenge.
We must keep our heads sane,
Hold each other’s hand along the way,
For the tide is rising upon the unsightly oyster,
But when it rescinds the pearls will appear.
Weep not my little one,
For hard work never broke a man,
In time you learn to see the reward,
And in the sunset you can rest at ease.
This is easily some of “the best” poetry I've read, simply based on your strong metaphors. You seem to effortlessly provide a thousand words in the space provided.
![MM900283104[1].GIF](https://www.boloji.com//poemphotos/MM900283104[1].GIF)
