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Angry
January 5, 2019
Voice calls out
Heartbroken drought
Here at last
The rains long past
Same day begins
The feeling thins
There she spits
At hypocrites
Who wonder why
Their days go by
Like sunken dreams
Although it seems
That they’re the ones
Who have the sons
Who scream and yell
At poor Michelle
Fists too hard
Caught her off guard
And now she’s done
Nowhere to run
Lives on the street
Nothing to eat
You sat and prayed
While she was betrayed
Sorrowful looks
And God-filled books
Won’t save us
We’re left to rust
Thoughts and prayers
They didn’t care
Now we’re the ones who pay
© Janet D., Marblehead, MA
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I wrote this while procrastinating a different poety assignment, but I liked this one better, so I used it instead.