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If I am poor as Job

If God blessed you
With many hands,
Don’t critic
Mine that is one.

If you were blessed
With red fresh wine
Don’t tell me
Mine taste like crap…

If your torchlight
Is big and bright,
Don’t come out
To quench my shine,

God filled your hives
Your vinegar
Is my honey
I still jolly…

I am happy
Just where I am,
There are big stars
And there fireflies

For by default
I may be dim
But don’t come
To dampen me…

Since you chose to
Sleep on airplanes,
I love my grounds
I love my mats

My bike is my
Luxury car
Don’t kill me
Because am Job.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

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