I am poor. Poorer than the Mountains. Poorer than Allah.

Dirt Poor like Jesus Christ. Poorer than a waitress serving

Coffee at a five-and-dime.

Poor. Poorer than the stars. Or that black night sky that

takes everything and gives nothing back. Poor. Poorer

than a refugee. Is that even possible? Maybe if you don’t

appreciate. Poorer than yesterday. Poor without knowledge.

Poorer with knowledge. Poor.

Until the word itself is strained of its own existence.

Poor no more.

Download my Science-Fiction Novella


    • Thanks Nichole. Sometimes I have something that I think will bad and it does well, and another post goes flying. It’s great to see so many likes. I am just getting into this blogging lark and will pop by your site soon.

      Liked by 1 person

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