April 23rd. another day another poem, another one from the 80's but times haven't changed that much have they?
I'm Sick.
I'm sick of missing the theatre
when "The greatest show on earth",
arrives in town.
Sick of living through the winter
with the heating turned down.
I'm sick of seeing my kids
miss out on this and that.
Sick of living with dampness
in a run down council flat.
I'm sick of having beans on toast
every other day.
Sick of TV shows extolling
a healthy lifestyle way.
I'm sick of wearing the same old jacket
hail, rain, or shine.
Sick of being told
the problem's really mine.
I'm sick of being a statistic
in some ministerial debate.
Sick of quietly letting
them decide my fate.
I'm sick of being offered work
if I accept a lower wage.
Sick of trying to control
this bubbling pent-up rage.
I'm sick ------------
I'm not, really sick,
though I soon will be,
I'm just obliged to live
on benefit.
