Poetry

Microwave meals and reality TV

My shoes are waiting outside,

Too muddy to join me

Not much changes round here,

Your dad, your sister and your old dear. 

 

Furniture pointing at the box,

Sitting in the same seat every night

Living room so tidy and neat

Looking around your families complete

 

Put in the microwave the plastic box

Dinner on trays on your lap

TV on, no talking

Four cars outside no need for walking

 

Waiting for tomorrow to come

Each day blends into one

People on the tele laughing

Celebritites singing and dancing

 

Talking about the neighbours

I’m told my nails are tacky, staines on my clothes,

A bunch of cereal complainers

I guess that’s me, chipped nail varnish and dirty trainers.

 

Thank you Marks and Spencer’s for what we’re about to eat.

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