Poetic Interlude LXXI

This week’s poem is just a draft, I’m afraid. Ought I to work it into a final form, or let it fall by the wayside, Gentle Reader? You decide.

A Draft

Another indignity darkens my door
Degraded again and again –
I never felt lucky until I was poor:
I never quite lived until then.

But these machinations are taking their toll

I wonder what might have become of my soul
My options grow slimmer while I’m growing old 
It seems human value is measured in gold. 

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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