Poor - a poem by Pranav Shree

You Say Am A Pestilence,
I Say I Am Nausea…
Call Me Expletive,
But Am A Blotch…
Not Diaspora,
But A Country Man …
Never Born, But Tamed…
Reason Not Illicit, But Ignorance…
Not Really Obnoxious But Harmful As Lethal…
I Am Not Rich, Am Poor…
I Don’t Have A Voice, But I Have A Cry…
You Can Ignore Me But Can’t Grow Simultaneously,
Because My Roots Were Sown With Intensity…
I Wait For A Wave, To Free The Slave…
I Wait For A Morning; Poor Will Wake Up Yawning…
I Wait For A Day; Rivers Will Flow Silently, Sun Will Shine Brightly And
POOR WILL WALK PROUDLY…