Lend the Poor an Enemy

Lend the Poor an Enemy to feel their lives

Were not blindly blighted

And give the rich the gift of fear

Or they will never treasure what they accumulate

Look

I own nothing but my thought

Says the wise man

And in order not to stimulate

The anger of others

I walk in this filthy overcoat

Mumbling

Muttering

Hissing

I pretend to be mad

And perhaps

I have become so now