I R S

I.  looked inside of me for the answers but they were invisible.

    Blindness over took me and you taxed my patience.

    Internally is where I live and my body is what carries me.

R. IP address wasn't found and you stayed hidden.

    I waited for my refund and even called upon you with your wealth of information.

    I tried to cash my disability check but there were insufficient funds.

S. ince you left I wandered without a plan except to keep it moving.

    But I'm no longer available, I'm on the go.

    I taxted you but your number was no longer listed.

    

            The taxman always win except when one dies

angstdevotionmeacrostic

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Joann Grisetti

May 20, 2012 at 11:48 AM

I Require Someone else's money.

Ronny Madonsela

April 30, 2012 at 9:49 AM

very creative. Taxes are some what of a pain. But you took this poem to greater hieghts. I love this.

Gwendolen Song

April 29, 2012 at 10:26 PM

We still have that stupidly ridiculous death tax here in the states....ugh! Looking at the date of this poem...it seems u unveiled it with perfect timing! Glad to read some of your work again...I will go find another! :) Gwendolen

Jeffry Cohan

April 29, 2012 at 3:04 PM

i dig the metaphorical nature of this poem more than the spoken word can express...but the taxman wins when you die also because whoever you leave money to has to pay taxes....dig? superific poem....a fan PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~