The Blood Of The Poor Poem by Abdul Wahab

I rise early
And see in the east
In the morning
Find you surprisingly
A ball of crimson red
The blood of the poor and destitute
You must have drunk yesterday!
Was it easy, tasty and very cheap?
Or the blood of the rich is not red!

At twilight
In the far west
Again I see you deep red
Surely you have been fed
With the blood of the poor and the destitute
As a tricky delicate delicious food.

Still you are honorable!
Still you are worship able!
In the east
You rise
For the rich
If we put
Our demand
In front of you
Behind the cloud
You start to play hide and seek.

Willingly you have forgotten
Without keeping the promise
Going down to sleep
In the west
Like a thief
And become a perjure
Now it is cent percent sure
No one is in this world for the weak and the poor.