Poverty had taken

The only home she’d known

The taxmen knocked frequently

The policemen with their ordinances in hand

Understand

That her father quickly left

Her mother drowned in debt

The taxmen knocked once more

The policemen came for good measure

Treasure

Was what she needed

To bleed this situation dry

She dug and dug into the ground

Found

Nothing

Wind bites and tickles her neck

Making cold the sweat she gathers from labors

She digs more than dirt but also caves

Graves

Of her loved ones who didn’t have the grit

Another brake this young one makes

Against the willow tree she sits

The taxmen knock again

Listen

Good news they do not bring

But her eviction is relieving

Judge takes one look and smiles

Trials

Of fire one after the other

She should have asked for help in the beginning

Maybe then she would still have a father, brother, mother…

Isolation

At long last the comfort of silence

Finally, it can end

Finally, the chill can stop