An Ode to Hardship
Oh brother dwelling across the sea, do you have some food for me?
I’m living so poor in this foreign country,
as I sleep in the sands of dust and debris.
The worries of your days consist of the ways your gluttony retreats to the skin.
Yet, let me rephrase, as I relay my malaise,
wishing my trials would grow just as thin.
I am searching for aid,
but the deluded plural phrase is all I am privileged to see.
And I know this is blunt, such a terrible stunt,
but don’t have a cow unless you give some to me.
(2012)
