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By: Philip Roberts

Page 1, Existential poem about the horrors of poverty and living alone.

Normal 0 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 st1:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} In a year where everything goes badly wrong
A poor man prays for just one thing to go right,
As all the world seems surely set against him
He struggles to survive the storms of life.

For nothing seems to work this awful year
And nothing seems to go his way at all,
For if he is not ill with chest infections
He’s all but crippled by a ghastly fall.

And as his injuries and ailments
He struggles just to live from day to day,
Though suicide’s a sin as Jesus tells us
He wonders if he’d be better off in the grave.

Though life was never meant to be easy
Still, he wonders why it has to be this hard,
He rarely even dares to step outside now
And finds himself constantly on guard.

On guard against the terrors he encounters
Against the many tragedies that beset him,
He wonders why he always seem to lose out
And wonders if he’ll ever get to win.

The storms of life blow so hard against him
And even daytime seems as black as night,
He wonders if he’ll ever stay in poverty
Or if some time soon he’ll have a better life.

© Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts

© Copyright 2015Philip Roberts All rights reserved. Philip Roberts has granted theNextBigWriter, LLC non-exclusive rights to display this work on

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