Suburban life awakens in a super output area of deprivation
According to the statistician’s index, this place has to be the pits of the earth in isolation 

Children void of early morning food, plead with parents to get them to school, but know that they will again, fail to be heard above the wind and rain
No one taking the blame for how things remain,
in a grey and black world of cigarettes and beer
With nothing else to bring any cheer

Form filling for those who understand the system
No cash is to hand, but the DWP is insisting,
that they justify the money that they’re claiming
Have to que outside, even if it’s raining

Having to feel like a fraud, to put money in the pot
Just for those who suspect, and mistrust quite a lot
Tipping out your pockets and emptying your purse,
is no flaming blessing, it’s more like a curse

Crisis loans only ache the bones of those in debt
With needs not met, so a trip to the food bank, is again the only option, to the fostering out, of the kids, or adoption? 

So, the cycle starts over from the very beginning
The system, still keeps winning and winning
Meaning that we are all still the losers,
as opposed to being the privileged choosers
Vicious cycle
         Vicious circle
                  But not just for today
                          For every day
               The Urban Poet 2018