Meltdown In A Showdown Poem by John Sensele

Like a withered well in the grip of a drought
Tills and wheels of goodwill dry up
When treated like the trashed trout
Whose strain in the rain crushes the map

Propelling boisterous behaviour
To take root
When recipients reject the saviour
Sent to favour the flat foot

Flying in a frenzy to poison the mouth
Caught red handed
Pinching baby's milk in the South
Where ingratitude has crash landed

Its gears spoiling for the showdown
Ingrates can't win
In the face of the meltdown
They suffer at the hands of a mean

Opponent prepared to slaughter
Efforts they make
To repel the daughter
Who lays down her life for their sake.