• Author B. D. West



Poor… How I want it to be no more It’s always knocking at my door Pushing me to the floor At the mercy of all No one hears my call In my dreams I travel to Rome A different world far, far from home It hurts to lead a poor life The power of money, it carries relief and strife Hope is all the poor can afford But even hope is a double edged sword One paycheck away from the street No familiar faces would I meet Where have all my friends and loved ones gone Now is the time to be strong

Social Media

  • B. D. West facebook
  • B. D. West twitter
  • B. D. West on youtube

© 2020

Author B. D. West all rights reserved