Down and Out

Since I was eighteen Trying to find a job I never could convince Anyone to hire me Years and years of trips To the unemployment office The door of opportunity Never opened Waiting my turn Filling out forms I got depress knowing My faith was all in vain Now the economy is bad The prospects once had No longer exist For those more capable Never got the experience To make me skilled From faces unconcerned And eyes uncaring At forty-eight I write poetry Because there is no options For this girl living in the cracks Always upset, suspicious Never understanding Why her life never amount To at least a hill of bean That lost little girl Left behind at age three Lives on her face At age forty-eight Down and out she retreats To the darkness that comforts A castle where she’s safe From daggers of this life