I feel it in my crooked toes
and in my wonky two front teeth.
I see it where my clothes are worn
and in the gaps around my shoes.
I notice it in others too; in the little
signs of wear and tear,
in the slog of getting old.
Poor is all wrapped up cold,
inside a shabby winter coat.
You can try to hide it
while you're living
or **** it like a sugared treat.