Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site



About the horrors of being poor in a fascist country like Australia. Written c.1980, but nothing has improved in the 30 years since then.


Submitted:Dec 27, 2010    Reads: 32    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


I see a face outside my window
It's a mirror of all life's pain;
An echo of all my yesterdays
A silhouette from deep within my brain.
All around me children weep
As they see a new day dawning;
For the pain of life goes ever deep
And in their every way, they're mourning.
Still politicians in chauffeured cars
Forge on with stern determination;
Consoling themselves in the knowledge
That they're the backbone of this great nation.
THE END
© Copyright
Philip Roberts




0

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.