By D. R. DiFrancesco
The sunken eyes of my child,
Daddy, I’m hungry,
A cry that stings my ears.
Oligarchs say, we will fix everything,
Didn’t you cause this in the first place,
Sending my labor to the third world.
Tell me what I’m to say to my little girl,
Daddy has to look for a job,
Food will have to wait.
No ones hiring,
I’m not high tech, I only know how to build things,
Since when is blue-collar a crime?
We call our old Fairmont wagon home,
B of A took our four walls,
Now where is my American dream?
They say we are the reason entitlements are broke,
They say I’m milking the system,
They don’t know, or even care who I am.
Another day on the hunt,
Another day knocking on doors,
Another day begging for work,
Another day at the food bank,
Another night in our car,
Another night of my child being hungry,
Another day of the oligarchs trying to say I’m worthless,
Another day of us fighting on!