The poor man's salary

Every day is a salary, But the food we eat is more than the wages We the modern farmers toil taller - than the seed we harvest. Mama hustles to fill our empty stomachs And make the frowning faces gleam But; The world aims more and more, Struggle day and night, Yielding vanity in the shelter. Who knows the abode of salary? Travelling like the sun in a man's purse Deducting fare without notice. An empty stomach, Tattered clothes, Stale furniture, Rust and dust, Waiting for revenue, An unending journey Whose path is ubiquitous. We earn; but when earned, Daddy brings his shattered boots out of the box And calls "aboki" to beautify it Mama also submits her tripod cost And I submit a diary of the term fees. Poor man's salary is like a weak soldier Who disappoints them in the field Salary is salary - but not all salaries are rich. I read a long letter from a neighbour Rejecting light because of probable cause Cause; sooner, tax and tattered bills will be asked. If you fail to employ yourself You will be salaried employed If you don't work, you will not receive What we work, we earn.