Through the dark tunnels of poverty
I yearn for light at its end
But every bit of move, approached by a bend
Will I ever pay back when I can fend?
Through the dark tunnels of poverty
Surrounded by another phase of darkness
Seeping through my blood without minding the closeness
Will I ever be free from this illness?
Through the dark tunnels of poverty
I'm incapacitated by imaginary shackles
Every stage accompanied by obstacles
Now and then I still can't spread my tentacles
YOU ARE READING
Shining Shadows
PoetryMemories of the past, still occurring in the present, and tending towards the future.
