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Emotional Poverty
Contributed by
ArdRi79
on
Wednesday, 3rd January 2018 @ 07:54:01 PM in AEST
Topic:
anguished
|
Nails across my scars
Across my chest
If you could only guess
What they mean
To another me
Of another age, who I mightve been.
Not so poor
Not so prone
Family to burn in a place I belong.
But here I stand alone
In tears, in silence I belong
And I wish I had come from other than my own.
Copyright ©
ArdRi79
... [
2018-01-03 19:54:01]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Emotional Poverty
(User Rating: 1 )
by JamesStockdale on
Wednesday, 3rd January 2018 @ 09:57:59 PM AEST
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a Message)
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In this new age global economy you can be rich today and homeless tomorrow. There are plenty of fish in the sea but just one family....
Relationships come and go but blood is blood...
Godspeed my friend! |
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Re: Emotional Poverty
(User Rating: 1 )
by Invierno on
Thursday, 4th January 2018 @ 09:48:23 PM AEST
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I dig the poem. Don/'/t know how old you are, but money doesn/'/t have a thing to do with winning a girl. You either have it inside you to surmount the financial hurdle and make it as nothing, as far as she/'/s concerned....or you don/'/t.
Don/'/t make your financial deal the reason...that/'/s an excuse. You would be be selling yourself short, friend.
I know what I/'/m talking about. I dated one of the daughters of the owner of Caterpillar. A girl wants to date the PERSON, not the wallet.
lastly, you may be assuming, as you write. Or not. I don/'/t know. But you do. Don/'/t sell HER short by assuming.
If it is indeed the case, and she won/'/t even speak with you because of the socioeconomic gap, then she isn/'/t worth the chase. True.
Invierno |
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Re: Emotional Poverty
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Saturday, 6th January 2018 @ 01:40:47 AM AEST
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I grew up poor thinking it was a drag.
being poor is a drag. is a drag.
I remember this cute girl I liked in school
came by our house, she saw me and my
brothers playing basketball using the small
front overhang that led to our front door
as an imaginary hoop. what a drag, what
a drag, it bothered me that my old man had
left and gone, I never said to anybody, pretending
I was not poor. But I was not poor. I was rich.
I was not wretched, we had each other.
I was lucky. I never forgot that.
I still do not care much about money.
I have turned down promotions and money.
Would I die a poor man, or would I strike it
rich someday, I would think about those
two possibilities, but now I don/'/t.
Because I am rich. And I always was.
And the cute girl she did not care
at all about how poor I thought I was.
She was interested in me. Because
she thought I was kind. I was the
kind of kid who did not look
down on people because of
what their family had.
We work hard, not for
self interest alone.
It is about something
else.
Remember that!
Peace!
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