Poorhouse Poet

I am the poorhouse poet, I pay for others’ sins.

I pay also for my own, the Devil grins.

I suffer for your faults, oh brother mine.

I can’t afford a ball of twine.

Much less wine.

Persecution is good for you, a friend of mine said.

That man is older than me, not yet dead.

It forces you to excel.

Which way out of Hell?

Tich Ennis

21st February, 2017

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