Sitting inside a dark room,
Lighting home-made candles for light.
Igniting up a roaring fireplace,
Using old papers and wood we found last night.
Not for smores or happiness,
But for solely warmth alone.
Blankets piled on top of blankets,
Simply to quiet stifling cold stone.
Reading by the fire,
Or by using the moonlight.
Darkness and the frigid cold,
Were my only friends at night.
We got the big food stamp box,
It’s like opening presents on Christmas day.
It’s a bright orange log of Government cheese,
Mom will make us as many grilled cheeses as we please.
Hunger forever gnawing,
Sadness in my brain.
This constant poverty,
Will slowly drive me insane.
Still there seems like no end of it in sight,
I shall for the rest of my days be always sad and poor.
Only darkness there is no light,
Till the day I finally drop to the floor.
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