Rich Vs. Poor

You pride obnoxiously in your materials.
While I cry because hypocrisy has invaded my heart.
I envy the rich,
Yet everyday I yearn for the bare minimum of what they have.
I curse them.
But can I meet them?
Never could I beat them.
So I treat them,
As If they are the enemy
Who stole what could’ve possibly, been mine.
What makes them special that they get all the lavish things that I can only dream for?
My dreams are their realities.
And my reality is their nightmare. And they stare,
But never do they spare,
As I ask for nothing more than a dollar,
No it gets me no richer
But at least I am a dollar further,
And a hunger lesser.
Looking down on me.
As if I am less,
As if I am nothing,
But If I had a million dollars in my pocket,
Guarantee they would flock around me like I am something.
Money is who they are,
Not what they have.
Never will they be in my position
Is what they claim.
So I curse them,
And I curse them again,
Because I want them to feel
And I pray that they feel the same…pain.
And as I gained,
What they have,
Never would I imagine that I would become that rich man who had done the poor bad.

Todays poetry contest submission was written by Teighlor Mitcham.


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