Sundays have always
been depressing, but
this one is even more
so than usual. It's less
than a month until Xmas,
and I'm in debt up to my
eyeballs, I don't know
where I'm supposed to
get the extra money from.
The D.W.P. don't suddenly
get generous, just because
I've got presents to buy.
I used to get a £10 bonus
at Christmas time.
Wow !!! A full £10, but now
I don't even get that.
With the lockdown taking
almost everything that's fun,
away this year they should
also cancel Christmas.
Santa won't be a part of
your bubble, he's putting us
all at risk.
The fat, bearded bastard.
been depressing, but
this one is even more
so than usual. It's less
than a month until Xmas,
and I'm in debt up to my
eyeballs, I don't know
where I'm supposed to
get the extra money from.
The D.W.P. don't suddenly
get generous, just because
I've got presents to buy.
I used to get a £10 bonus
at Christmas time.
Wow !!! A full £10, but now
I don't even get that.
With the lockdown taking
almost everything that's fun,
away this year they should
also cancel Christmas.
Santa won't be a part of
your bubble, he's putting us
all at risk.
The fat, bearded bastard.
Ian Lewis Copestick is a 48 year old writer (I prefer that term to poet ) from Stoke on Trent, England. I spend most of my life sitting, thinking then sometimes writing. I have been published in Anti Heroin Chic, the Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, the Rye Whiskey Review, Medusa's Kitchen and Horror Sleaze Trash.
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