Pawned

'What is this? '

That is a box of my realities.

'This is worthless stuff.
We can not use this here.
All of it is rusted gold plated crap.
What do you think we can do with that? '

You took my other things I pawned.

'We knew you were coming back.
Now...
Those realities you want us to believe...
Can not do a thing for us!
We fed our needs for a while...
Providing you a fix to return to get your realities.
But no one comes to us with a bail out,
To recycle greed.

Even your pleas are worthless!
If you had chafing pans or dishes,
Sterno and a box of matches...
With a manual can opener,
You got yourself a deal! '

Those are utensils the 'help' would use!

'Well,
You need to go find where that 'help' is.
It ain't here! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!