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.