you can smell poverty

i wish you can see the disgust on my face
because i smell poverty
buses with big windows hold small dreams
and cramped trains are moving nowhere
but they call them express?
mothers carry strollers like buckets carry water...

spilling everything everywhere
trails of self esteem and liquor bottles litter the very streets they call urban, like that's a good thing?

check cashing places don't save savings
before we know it, our pockets aren't the only things broken
welfare doesn't fare well for those who wear fear well

tongues twist over words but feet stumble over bodies
oh katrina the only man to ever resurrect himself was Jesus
and where was God then?

and i don't mean to be blasphemous but there's a very big difference between watching something happen and making something happen
so as you stand by and mock our music and bronze your skin
know that the blood of kings and queens was shed but it's still within

can you smell the poverty?
there is a stench that follows even the most noble of leaders
it is a scent that snatches the very faith of the so called believers

oh i hate the smell of poverty
it burns my eyes
and my tears burn through the pavement
this smell
the smell of poverty
aches my soul
and it just doesn't make sense
to describe something in such rich detail when the story was written poorly.