This supermarket is dirty;
Full of rotten things.
People steal and cheat.
The carts used to help,
Have broken wheels with only three.
For those who shop, never buy.
And those who buy, can't leave.
Am I in the first or the latter?
Does it matter? I think not.
Either way we all are stuck.
In this market until the doors unlocked.
Should i cash out with the checker,
But making change is impossible.
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The title of this poem really stands out, reminding me of Emily Dickinson.
ReplyDeleteI also like this line:
"Either way we all are stuck."