III.
Opportunity Cost
"I'm working poor
But I'm living rich"
This is a lie
From some son of a bitch
Being broke
Ain't no noble thing
Scrapping for cents
Kills a dream
Being hand to mouth
Stoops yer shoulders down
Keeps yer head dropped
And yer eyes bound
Trifling around
For the scraps and shards
Makes a celestial demesne
From shitheap junkyards
Don't believe the lie.
The walls are slick brown
Still, in the palace of the head
stooped down
One of the many poems composed at Rick's Cabaret while stuck in VIP II, trying to ignore the blather of strippa domestic problems and cigarette smoke. Although written in 2013, quite fitting in the Trumpocracy in which we currently reside.