A Kind Poem

It’s all so tough, they tell me.
The rent, the flats, the ex’s, the foods, the weather, the lack of love, the abuncance of grime, the dead pidgeons, the missed chances, the yankee doodle dandies, the open skies, the rain, the open doors, the single mums, the rooms for professionals only, the dead carpets, the toxic mouths, the duracell bunny, no room at the inn, the get-togethers.
They recover, get over, muddle along, go through the motions, just get on with it, be there or be square, tootle along, bumble by, muck in, fuck off.
We go through the motions, put on a brave face, make ends meet, chase the dream, fuck the system, seize the day, get a bargin, meet a mate, down a pint, fight or flight, do what we might, sink in shite.
There are x amount of people on this planet, and there are many going through it worse than you. At least you have food in your belly; a roof over your head; someone that cares about you.
Then.
We recover, get over, muddle along, go through the motions, just get on with it, be there or be square, tootle along, bumble by, muck in, fuck off.
We just fuck off.

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