Hot off the presses.

*****

Every Damn Day

You keep those curtains closed, poet,
Keep those curtains down
Every time you pick them up
I make sure you frown

I can make fun of you
All night and all day
Nor will any of these people
Have anything to say

I make sure that your first thought
Every morning is of me
And the last every evening
Nobody can see

Except the ones that I reward
With their favorite drugs
For helping me to furnish you
The opposite of hugs

Try to smile, you poet,
Try to provide uplift
I make sure that it’s seen as useless,
Your so willing gift

If any one of them had to live
As I make you do
They’d understand just what it is
That I put you through

But I’ve made sure ~ I always do ~
That they’re unaware
In any case, poet, if they were
I’d make sure they just don’t care

*****

This poet presently lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level.

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