The Obscure One Poem by Val Brooklyn Rogers

The obscure one reeks of peasantry.
Instead of pleasantries.
Who only congregates in the
Ghettos of hopelessness.

He, in the population of shame
Runs the game.
The escapist attempts it again.
Lifting himself up, going for
The gold.

Now, an educated PROFESSIONAL
No longer salvages trash for
A little cash. He LEANS BRASH.
Artfully changed from his days
As a dreamer.

Now with courage and strength
He stretches, LEAN, CONTEMPT
With deliberate contemplation.

He stands
He steps
Away.