Throwaway Generation

Toil poverty takes on a person.

A tear caress my eye
Thinking about
All the strife
We must face daily
To be ourselves.

Caught
In an endless trap
Of poverty
And indifference.

Grinding us down
Until only
A red smear remains
Where once stood
A person.

As there is
No one left behind
To shed a tear of sorrow
Or offer condolences
To a grieving lover
As they stand
Over the grave site.

Author's Note

Please ignore any spelling or grammar errors.