A broken back
Just will not do
You’ll take too long
And burn the stew.

On note of burning
From where’re, the scars
That, stomachs churning,
Make up the bars

O’ the prison that binds you?
A cast iron shackle
Society’s scorn
And a hollowing cackle.

Empties your soul
Of the love it once held;
For the people around you
By whom you’re impelled.

The dregs of a rag
On which a blind man once sat,
You are the nothing
No more than a rat.

I hope you don’t depress
And cry in the broth
Or bleed on your robes
For we might need the cloth.

A penny well saved
Is a penny well spent
And yet all I can say is
“You’d best pay your rent!”

If a benevolent master
Is all that you want
Then I would suggest
Not being a runt.

What man could desire you?
What motive to care?
For most not your money purse
For that is laid bare.

A whispering wisp
Once told you to wait.
A malevolent spirit
You’ve taken the bait.