In affluence they live, in opulence they feast.

In hopelessness we thrive, despondency our currency. 

Battered by the strong hand of poverty, we cringe at their sight with no prayer of good. 

We made ourselves so, we sold our souls to slavery for morsels we are not remorseful for. 

We have eaten tomorrow yesterday and today is no longer on the menu. 

We are shameless for our integrity has been shattered with the calabash we ate from. 

Our souls, we have traded for morsels. 

Our humanity exchanged for insanity. 

In the battle for more personal wealth, we have enlisted as battle axes to bring one another down.

Tokens paid for our homes, our kids with no hope for roofs over them.

Our wives prized away. 

Our husbands now slaves. 

Our calabash of hope shattered.