The Old Mill Is Gone

The streets are filled with crying men,
filling the gutters up with tears.
As we walk from our final shift,
that’s fed us for a hundred years.

Eleven hundred jobs vanished, 
like a leaf caught upon the wind.
And Canton North Carolina,
will never be the same again.

What’s in store for us tomorrow,
no one can ever really know.
When your faith is already gone,
and any hope is next to go.

There’s no money left to buy things,
that it will take just to survive.
Wondering if it’d be better,
if I would just lay down and die.

They tell me these are better days,
than how it always used to be.
They sure got a long way to go,
before they can prove it to me.

Because I still don’t have a job,
or any money left to spend.
So please don’t give me any bull,
how this country is on the mend.

Even the drunks on the corner, 
are gone but it’s not what you think.
They all have to get sober now,
because they can’t afford to drink.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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

Rolland Avatar
September 13, 2023 at 6:52 PM
hard times are coming back, well written poet, and what a verse to remember "will never be the same again." thanks
Brotherton Avatar
September 14, 2023 at 5:26 PM
Thank you, Yann. I wonder though, did hard times ever go away?
Situation Avatar
September 13, 2023 at 3:31 PM
IT's happening right now. This is reality. It finds us and we don't look for it. Ask Detroit.
Brotherton Avatar
September 13, 2023 at 5:15 PM
So true.
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace