They asked me
What do you see?

I answered

poverty,

shut in the backrooms
sold to the groomers,
I see
Poverty
chalked like a signature
walked over
talked over
ok'd and
then laughed over
lunch,
left over
leftovers,
I
See
do gooders who can't see the wood for the trees,
charities
screaming, another please
I see
disease
Men
on their knees
Girls
selling their souls to
fill in the gaps,
making new roles to play.

Ask me again what I see.

Psychiatry, rude on the streets, why is it me?

Look to the future and what will you be?

You'll be the question unanswered
the thing we don't see,
the orphan we look to
and expect clarity.

****** me Baldrick
don't ya think this a bit sick?

Maybe, says he, but he's not the brightest of buttons on the cutting room floor,
Bollix I can't take
it no more,
I see **** all in the grand scheme except poverty and a *******
now and again.