43. Unemployed (43)

   Each day drags its weary feet...
   No life, no purpose!
   Anxiety fills the emotion;
   Another bill falls through the letterbox.

   Isolation is the norm of the day,
   No friends, no pay.
   The visit to the jobcentre,
   Justifying a jobsearch.

   Waiting for money
   To enter the account.
   No food in the cupboards.
   Another bill falls through the letterbox.

   A crafty visit to a friend,
   Perhaps a family member or two.
   Hoping an offer of a helping hand...
   But shame makes you not go.

   A chat with the jobcentre staff
   They know very little of efforts!
   The bureaucrats in their ivory towers
   Judging us by our characters.

   The bureaucrats tell us, we will lose our money!
   If not apply for jobs.
   We must take anything that comes our way...
   They know very little, frustrations sobs.

   That's easy if you are an unqualified 'bum'!
   But is that even fair to say?
   Our learning abilities and styles
   They do differ in every way.

   A course here, a course there...
   As if being qualified will help the day;
   I have qualified in so many, anyway....
   Another bill falls through the letterbox.

   I am a nuisance to my neighbours,
   Not normally seeing anyone...
   I chat to them for long duration
   I see them moving, until an excuse and gone...

   Perhaps amusing, helps to pass the time of day...
   Before the next unsettling catastrophe!
   Like a bill that's wrong in every way.
   And we still have to pay!

   I, out way the cost of the call,
   Only to be placed on hold...
   Or, to go through the switchboard cycle,
   The feeling of isolation of old.

   I reflect and see the incompetence...
   Controlling my life in this way.
   The politicians, agencies and companies.
   They are playing the takings game.

   And I think what food I could buy
   With their pay for this one day...
   A purge to find a job continues
   Like any other day...

   With reflection, I have come to know,
   Without a purpose to our lives.
   We are nothing in this world
   Only a burden in our own eyes...

   And this leads to a sobering thought...
   Will I be missed today?
   If I walked from this immortal Earth
   To whom would care to say...?
   Another bill falls through the letterbox.