Bare Cupboards, Full Heart Poem by Micronjan (also use name micron)

The cupboard's bare, no meals in sight,
The house is cold, the heater's died.
I own these walls, yet lose the right
To ask for help though needs reside.

The roof drips down; my redundancy nearly spent,
Each coin I count, each note I weigh.
The main bills covered, the essentials lent,
I've sold what I could—nothing left to pay.

I send out forms, applications sent,
No response comes—a brick wall stands.
All my skills and years, experience spent,
As if they vanish from human hands.

What little spare goes straight to Dad,
To keep him warm, to keep him fed.
I eat less, though my own life's sad,
So he can rest and stay in bed.

I still take him on trips and rides,
Though funds are low, the cost is mine.
He has dementia—he cannot hide
The joy that crosses his bright mind.

Friends drifted off when luxuries ceased,
Their calls grew quiet, visits done.
With Dad to care for, life's decreased,
No job keeps my restless thoughts on the run.

Neighbours glare; my garage paint peels—
Food or paint, which truly weighs?
They scold, they judge, they miss how it feels,
Yet still I stand through endless days.

I long for warmth, yet still I cope,
Because I must. Because I hope.