Blog Festival | Evil of Poverty | by Martha Kings

Naked ceiling and rumbling intestines,

Shamefully homeless and kissed by hunger;

Forced to be one of poverty’s concubines,

Like being cursed with slaps from a thunder.


Empty hearts with hopeful thoughts,

Weirdly happy and dying slowly;

Ship of cold as it gently fraught,

Crashing into the sea below so lowly.


Nature’s impeccable entertainment,

And life’s ever beautiful nightmare;

The rich’s mockful amusement,

And earth’s miserable secret affair.


Raining face and broken skin,

Harshly sun-kissed without permission;

Red weary eyes as if bathed with gin,

Helpless but bitter without admission.


Echoing pockets with holes at the end,

Empty bowls and frowning passersby;

Inheriting gastric ulcer for a friend,

And finding solace deep in Satan’s pie.


Torn clothes as if burnt by the sun,

Worn confusion as if placed since birth;

A search for an escape maybe via a gun,

Staring at the clouds to find life’s worth.


Depreciating health and weak posture,

“All will be well”, So hopeful and patient;

Boiling temperature and bloody picture,

“I will be fine”, but death is impatient.


Paused breath, very frozen body,

Lonely in death, lonely wherever;

Abandoned by life like a nobody,

Shallowly buried and silent forever!

I am Martha Kings, a 21-year-old graduate of English & Literature from Ambrose Ali University. I have been writing since the early age of 8. I suffer from depression and literature has been my lighthouse for as long as I can remember. Instead of tears, I let words flow and this technique has improved and built me into the woman I am today. My blog is at

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