No one Suffers Like The Poor. By Ian Lewis Copestick

The older I get the more I see
That for no one is this life easy
The multi-millionaires  that I hate
Still have hemorroids and headaches

No matter what lifestyle, no matter what class
Everyone has to wipe their ass
We all get hungover from a night on the booze
We all have our time to sing the blues

Lovers leave and parents die
We all have times we have to cry
But I might feel better if I had a decent amount
Of money in my bank account

So, no the rich don't really suffer
They have their cash to act as a buffer
They say happiness is something you can't buy
But I don't know, I'd like to try

Ian Lewis Copestick is a 46 year old writer (I prefer that term to poet ) from Stoke on Trent, England. I spend most of my life sitting,  thinking then sometimes writing. I have been published in Anti Heroin Chic, the Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, the Rye Whiskey Review, Medusa's Kitchen and Horror Sleaze Trash.