True Poverty

I don't even know why I try to write poems.

At daybreak the poor farmer wakes up his family.

And together they gather around a table.

They eat and talk about the plans of the day.

John cut the grass, Tim clean the stable.

Its a sweltering day, as the sun cooks their skin,

But they're all hard at work, performing their chores.

At lunchtime the poor farmer takes a break-

It's time for his daily trip to the store.

He chats with owners who he's know all his life,

And supports the store by buying a ticket.

No intentions of ever winning the jackpot,

Today was different as luck was with him.

What could he do with all his new found wealth?

Save the farm, feed his kids, pay his debt.

But instead he left behind his old way of life

Abandoning the farm, his family, and friends.

These we're in there originally but I think the poem is better without them

Now its the value on which he bases his values

Happiness and love are not items with prices

He's content with cocaine, cars, and call girls. 

And spending the rest of his life with these vices.

Though he started out poor he was richer than a king,

But he spent his way out of the land of honey.

But in these last years, he was poorer than ever

All he ever wanted was money.

Author's Note

Well this is a lame one

Reviews

[Different Wings]

I like how it started, very much, and the fourth stanza makes it mysterious and I want to read further. But then I get lost, somehow, in the starkness of the next couple. It seems to come too quickly, too predictably. But I love the concept! I don't even think it needs to rhyme. It would be fine-better, perhaps- without it. It's also relatable, which I like :)