Baskadia

A poor man, tired and worn

Scraped by each day, never to be reborn

Working hard for scraps and crumbs

Never a moment to sit and succumb

A rich man, with wealth untold

Never lifting a finger, his riches never grow old

Feasting on lavish meals, living in luxury

Never once thinking of the poor man's misery

But the poor man, despite his struggles and strife

Never lost hope, and never took life for granted

He worked hard, and persevered through it all

While the rich man, with all his wealth, could never stand tall

For true riches lie not in material things

But in the strength of character, and the love that it brings

The poor man, though poor, was rich in spirit and soul

While the rich man, though wealthy, was empty and cold