The Ghosts Of A Troubled World (5) Poem by chize ryan ogunkah

THE GHOST OF POVERTY

Ash looks, pale minds
Wrinkled lines running through
Where she once flowed
Lifeless, loveless and
With a face of obscurity and unsurety
Her boughs boast of no return
Arid to the point of tearlessness
Her breasts, the sole of a fish
Dangling, drooping, but not dripping
Not one of sure strength
But of the winds and waves of blank hope
Once a source but now a curse
A victim of a struggle
A struggle without a name definite