 |
Bryon D. Howell |
 |
|
Bryon D. Howell |
|
| The digital TV we used to own, was sold to pay bills and buy what we need; our house will be taken; out we'll be thrown... the showings proved pointless; fruitless indeed. No money to spend, our pockets bone dry; the food in the fridge, a nominal fare. Where will we end up? Have we lived to die? What nightmare awaits us when we leave here? Work is slim pickings, I've looked and I've sought, the same ads each week, I've got them down pat; the hope of a buck is now left for naught... and to blind luck now, I'm blind as a bat! A knock at the door, don't look! It's no prank! It's not opportunity...it must be the bank!
|