The true plight of the human
Poverty is dehumanizing. It creates an endless hunger in
its victims. It renders you hopeless. Your brain slows down, it blinds you and
kills you while you walk. You wander around, looking for sympathy. You exist
for the next moment, live by default, by hope.
Age gives you some dignity but
you cry out for the bad in the world. Simple tasks become difficult. You think the
world owes you a lot. And it does. It offers itself each morning but in
your pain there’s comfort. Like a pig in shit, you do not know better. They
robbed you off your ability to enjoy your labor. But they gone now, those
beautiful thieves, yet you have been crying on that street corner, clutching
onto what you had. You birthed your kids in that misery, they grew up to be
bitter, fighting everyone but the thieves. When you breathe in poverty, there
isn’t much to exhale.
