political poetry (Remove filter)
FIVE O'CLOCK
At five o’clock the Tories dribble poison in my ears
trying hard to hide their perma-smirks they giggle at our fears.
Trumpeting as triumphs, all the targets they’ve not met.
They twist the truth like wicker man and hope we’ll all forget
that they failed to act in time to protect our brave frontline
And they watched the death toll climb, while they told us we were fine
Saturday 9th May 2020 2:27 pm
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