Poverty is like an iron cover with several holes in it
Through which pass some invisible rays
They fall upon you and you slowly go dry
When they slyly suck up the sap of your body and brain
You cannot move as the cover works like chain
And cannot think big and pose as brilliant either
Within this dome like structure the space is too less
Deflated you look and feel like a fallen flower
Yet you cannot do anything to bring a relief of rain
The invisible rays act like dykes
To make obstacles after obstacles
In the way to break away the walls of this prison room.