A poem I have written about the state England is in today. It is written like a conversation between two people about a mutual friend dying.
We have a mutual old friend and She’s dying!
We have a very old friend and She’s slowly slipping away!
We have a dear old friend who was always here through thick and thin and She’s passing away!
Why is she dying you ask? Old Age?
She’s dying through neglect and abuse!
She’s got a rotten black heart from years of uncaring ill-treatment!
Who is she? you ask
Don’t you know yet?
Take a few paces outside, can you feel the ground under you?
Now breathe in deeply, feel the air in your lungs?
Do you have a personality?
I thought so!
Well that’s her!
She’s the ground beneath your feet!
She’s the air in your lungs!
She’s a part of your personality, she’s helped form who you are!