Poverty, noun, the state of being inferior to society due to disagreeing with them.

Impoverished, in squalor,

With nothing to my name

Lost in this world

With no one to blame

Me, myself and I

Against Hell

My emotions

Nothing can quell

For in this is my jail

Where there’s no freedom without curtail

We’re all on remand, we have no bail

Our blood will leave a trail

From our cells to this hell of a jail

The nights are long

Our lives are short

It’s hard to battle

In a lawyer-less court

With no justice, no rights

No chances of victory

All the rules are just

Horribly contradictory

Messes of words

Round up in herds

For this is the court

The rules we cannot thwart

Herded like sheep, from doors athwart

To a desk of defense with cracked legs and no comport

For we deserve nothing more in this court.

Mannerless tables,

Lawyer-less defense

Lack of justice

Lack of sense

All we can see

Is that jail, that hell

Death comes to all who enter

Is what they all foretell

For in this function

Is naught but dysfunction.

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