A price for a bowl of rice

when time leads, I follow
when I am broke, I borrow
when joy ends, here comes sorrow
when fight comes, carefully avoid the blow

a bowl of rice has a price tag
always a price to pay to get freedom
Nothing is free, even in Freetown, I know
Brace up friend, nothing good, comes so easy

I hope you enjoyed my short poem.

picture from google.com