I thought only my badly patched shoe could testify to the sufferings of today,

But soon my drenched smelly armpit was staking it claims,

I could hear the vacuum in my pocket trying hard to be recognized,

While my empty stomach rumbled at the thought of perceived unfairness.




For once my legs seems like they could longer carry me,

The emptiness of my room made it so unwelcoming,

My bed could no longer bear the extra burden of containing me and my pains,

While my pillow prepares itself for another night of rendezvous with my tears.



Deep inside of me I wish I could sleep and wake no more,

Or wake resting eternally in the world above,

But I guess Tomorrow harbours huge hatred for me,

Why does he keeps knocking on my door, when have rejected him.



I think am losing the last of my strength,

All my dreams seems to have eloped with time,

My life has turned out to be nothing but beautiful lies,

Have realized what the future promised was nothing but pile of biles.



But people will say only the weak gives up,

I should keep believing when no one could guarantee my next meal,
They will say no one knows what tomorrow holds,

But only me knows that the wheel of hope is struggling to balance my wares

Amazing

Aptly written.

Kiddogarcia, I think what you really need to do at this point is to clasp your poem into stanzas so that the meaning will be understood; both by the lines and the stanzas they fall into.

Try to rearrange it.

Nice choice of words used.

cassyrooy:
Kiddogarcia, I think what you really need to do at this point is to clasp your poem into stanzas so that the meaning will be understood; both by the lines and the stanzas they fall into.

Try to rearrange it.

Nice choice of words used.

these are the people we want, those who review poems and point critique. . .

Aiyamrex:

these are the people we want, those who review poems and point critique. . .

Thank you. But I'd be moved to critique where I find something to critique.

cassyrooy:
Kiddogarcia, I think what you really need to do at this point is to clasp your poem into stanzas so that the meaning will be understood; both by the lines and the stanzas they fall into.

Try to rearrange it.

Nice choice of words used.

thanks for the observation