I'm sort of ready to sweep them under the rug
Followed by the Mexican Hat Dance
Or a tantrum.
Old people.
Croaking, shaking, too trusting, too paranoid.
Just so I don't have to think about it anymore.
Today I was told I was losing my job.
A dead canary in the mine.
I should be running out screaming
But all I do is sit here
Waiting for it.
I can't imagine this struggle going on
For sixty more years.
Living through decades of pain
Only to be hated by some spiky-haired kid
Who used to work at the bank.
Out
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
5 comments:
Oh-oh. I've only just finished reading your previous (I have got to keep up!). Is it official? If so, that SUCKS! Do you have that lady's address? You should go round there and let her know what's occurred because of her.
It's not official yet.
Hi Justin, I believe nothing happens without a reason even though we do not always recognise the reason but in your case I think you (were} are wasted at that bank anyway, so just maybe, this is not the end but the beginning! Of what? Don't know yet, but keep your eyes pealed - the opportunities are there for a guy with your talents. (I am not preaching, am I?)
This poem give me hope to the future. A future where our elderly are treat with the respect they deserve. Once they turn 65 they are paired off and lead to the Thunderdome. Two old bastards enter one bastard leaves. The future rocks!
LOL. Li'l Navy Wife, you crack me up. Thanks for reading the poem and getting it.
Post a Comment