Ignorance is bliss
When poverty is golden
And you are the one stolen from yourself.
Words can be words, but when they are written,
They become words written without credentials.
Who wants to know?
Who cares, anyhow?
You were [type]casted aside—
Only to be on the poverty line.
[Having something that everyone else wanted.]
Waiting for that check
That comes once monthly—
When you have single-handedly handled your financials yourself,
And you hadn’t need “win”, or anything;
You’d just could’ve been
Your own boss.
But they looked at you, and wanted something—
Something that could be taken from you.
And you have made something of yourself.
Your pride; your loss;
When you’d written it, yourself.
The ticket to the inside, of which,
They’d wanted out of greed.
You were the small one,
Onto which you had let them feed.
©2026Ellen Finn
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 8:25 PM UTC
Ignorance is bliss
When poverty is golden
And you are the one stolen from yourself.
Words can be words, but when they are written,
They become words written without credentials.
Who wants to know?
Who cares, anyhow?
You were [type]casted aside—
Only to be on the poverty line.
[Having something that everyone else wanted.]
Waiting for that check
That comes once monthly—
When you have single-handedly handled your financials yourself,
And you hadn’t need “win”, or anything;
You’d just could’ve been
Your own boss.
But they looked at you, and wanted something—
Something that could be taken from you.
And you have made something of yourself.
Your pride; your loss;
When you’d written it, yourself.
The ticket to the inside, of which,
They’d wanted out of greed.
You were the small one,
Onto which you had let them feed.
©2026Ellen Finn
