Angry Young and Poor

Today I ate potatoes; yesterday I ate rice, and the day before pasta. These are subsistence foods for the poor. I am poor. My bank account is in the negative. The air in my tires is dangerously low. My car probably needs a tune up. I spend my nights alone in the dark. I’m broke and defeated. It isn’t so bad. It wouldn’t be so terrible, if the state left things well enough alone. I had some savings. The state seized them; they said it was because I didn’t deserve a future. They told me I was dangerous. I have a place to stay, for now. The state took my entire pay check last week for its attempt at reform. I over drafted my bank account to pay my car insurance. They increased the amount I had to pay on my car insurance. I studied at the university. I received a degree under the assumption it would make life easier. It didn’t happen. Lucidity was more a burden. The poor have enough burdens. Some poor people find someone to share the burden. I know people who believe love conquers all. In some cases they are right. The capitalist pigs use the word fair to deceive us. They say that we all have a fair and reasonable chance to obtain what they consider the American dream. I wish they wouldn’t lie. There is nothing fair about America. The kid who grew up having to wait in line with his grandmother at the food pantry just so the family could eat that month doesn’t have the same opportunities as the spoiled rich boy whose daddy buys him a brand new car when he turns sixteen. The poor struggle everyday to make ends meet. That is not fair. The system is absurdly out of balance. So I am angry. I am Young and I am poor. And in the words of a great punk band, Anti-Flag, I’m “Angry, young and poor! Angry, young and pissed! Angry no one cares!”