The Concrete

I am not afraid of poverty

I learned at the age of three that oxygen wasn’t free

And the expense of life was madness

That would forever be submerged

In a ice cold bathtub

If I watched my brother die would I freeze?

Without feeling powerless

I try to escape my right to frost

By submitting to the inevitable

I hugged the ocean’s waves

But I lost my mind at night

Survival is for the unfortunate

For sordid dreams to collapse by a broken family

I collected my whims in jars

And the moon captured my fears of governance

To be disregarded in history

Man without a home

A misery