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Hard Times

Times are hard,
You stay trying to find a way to eat,
Struggling to get to the next hour,
Aint got time to stress about next week.
You need money, your stomach hungry,
Your body is constantly weak,
And you have no one to turn to.
Aint got no help, people won't hear you speak.
Need money bad and can't get a job,
Your resume is a 3 time felony conviction.
Only employment that will hire you,
Is a spoke man from the street,
You fit the position perfectly.
A 9-5 block hugger,
What's your profession?
A certified street pharmacist.
Selling narcotics to the needy,
Why not?
They help you, so you help them.
They're your pay check,
You're their medicine.
You got a big clientele,
Your only problem, is retirement,
Cause once your business shuts down,
You'll spend your time in jail.

Written by Raymond Fulton


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge