Banks
Banks
I stare each day at my available balance
And I wish I had more in the pot
I feel as if I’m under constant surveillance
By the hierarchy, who know what I’ve got
They’re waiting to pounce and I know it
They want to smuggle my funds away
They want to increase their pension and profit
And charge me a penalty each and every day
But still they offer me a card or a loan
With rates of interest way above the base
Wanting to cut my finances to the bone
And help me lose my car, my house and my face
We’re here to help, they tell you
A friend who’ll always be by your side
But all they want is your indebted soul
And hunt you until there’s nowhere to hide
So, bankers; hats off to your enterprise
And all the good- you say you do?
But I’ll keep my money under the bed
And make sure I never give a penny to you.
David Cox
Copyright © Dave Cox | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment