'' What A Con '' Poem by Bri Mar

As austerity bites,
Can't afford the lights,
Face the last rites,
Put upon.

Differently abled,
No longer disabled,
With liar you're labelled,
Now gone.

Zero hours,
Really sours,
In a corner she cowers,
Overdrawn.

Foodbanks galore,
Getting more and more,
Life is a chore,
No new dawn.

It isn't funny,
Taxpayers money,
Make their lives sunny,
Cotton on.

A life of leisure,
Constant pleasure,
Storing up treasure,
What brawn.

A parasite is she,
Takes from you and me,
Some refuse to see,
Begone.

A two million pounds rise,
Robbery in disguise,
Open your eyes,
Where's the pawn.

It brings on tears,
Sixty plus years,
Puts us in arrears,

‘' What A Con ‘'