Round the corner there is poverty not poetry

Round the corner is poverty

And on one side there’s houses

Filled with lampshades

Larger than my microwave

Art on display

In streets meanings fade

Of what it means to struggle.

Round the corner there is poverty

And instead of gardens

There’s a mass grave

Of people who lived and died in city streets

That nobody gave (a shit)

Round the corner is poverty

Not poetry

It’s poverty

Round the corner is poverty

Poverty not poetry.

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