Spoilsport
What a difference
a year makes.
In 2023 you attended
a Broadway show.
Fast-forward to 2024.
There’s nowhere
left to go.
You’re struggling to
keep up with the status quo.
Irrecoverably racked with woe.
A day late,
a dollar short.
Abject poverty
can be such a spoilsport.
What a time to be alive,
as you struggle to survive.
Suddenly you’re seeing red — it’s
the color of existential dread, as
you try your best not
to shit the bed.
You can’t remember the
last time you ate — it’s
a stark reality you’ve come to hate.
A real bone of contention.
You’re in dire need of Divine intervention.
Amy Grech ©2024 All Rights Reserved.
