The Vine
A beautiful new baby
delighting the family,
gifts at his baptism,
no silver spoon
but there were toys.
Growing up heralds
the hopelessness
and cruel certainty for
the likes of him.
Poverty coils around his feet
snaking round his ankles,
tying them fast,
keeping him where
He is.
Guided by governments,
Ordered by opulence
They wind about his weakened flesh.
A family fastened together
by invisible vines
of self doubt
and depression.
Lies peddled by cruel folk
deliberately attacking
his home and
Children, who wait daily
To eat from the foodbank;
while other kids
carry bank cards
and dine when they want.
Who divided us?
Who decided? Us?
Who derided thus
and sowed in so many lives
those covert creepers?
