Walking Among The Streets
It People Doing Seems Like A Cheat

Unmentionable things
Where All There Is Are Scrapings

Poor Men And Women Suffer
Where they hate the richer

But When They Get Richer
They Hate The Poorer

They Don’t Get Jobs
All They Are, is Slobs

But I Do Pray
That One-Day he will get his pay on a hard workday

I can relate to your poem. You work so hard to make ends meet while others float by. It's easy to get angry at them. However, money cannot buy happiness. My father told me when I was young that a person can be broke and happy. I like the imagery of your poem. I envision masses of poverty stricken city dwellers fighting over meager scraps to maintain their existence. Makes me glad I don't live in a city. For me, the farther away, the better. Thanks for sharing it. I enjoyed it a lot.

Your poetic friend,

Kevin

Dear Nikki

I relate to the poem immensely, but in reverse !

I had everything and worked on average 18-20 hours a day seven days a week, I had money and I had money problems. I went to the other side of the spectrums scale and gave it all up. Everything ! To the point where I exist with no money and no money trobles at all. To say being broke and happy is better than having money and being sad depends upon the person involved. I was far happier having money trobles than I am having none. There are plusses and minusses with everything, the key is to find a balance.
I have lived with millionaires and I have lived with the homeless, one thing this has taught me, there are good and bad people in all walks of life. The homeless help each other just as much as the rich do, but they only help people in the same layer of society.

Hate for others is based upon envy, many of the rich people I have met would love to trade places with those whose responsibilities are minimal, but they would only like to do it for a short space of time
We all have our places in this world, dont judge books or people by thier outward appearances.
One of the best books I have ever read had the most boring cover you could imagine, it was black and there wasa little golden crucifix on the front cover.
One of the best people I have ever met smelled terrible, looked dishevelled, and very angry, but he showed me more kindness than most I had ever met.

Open your mind, never think you know what a person is like by looks alone.

Thanks for sharing your poem.

J