The Convict Game

Why do these words
Keep pouring from my brain
Like so much needed rain
On a dry and dusty plain?
Why is it that
When I see an empty screen
Do I feel the need
To fill it with words
Just to be seen
If not read
And understood?
How can I ever expect to be understood
When your misgivings
Give way to your mood?
All that is poisoned food
You may want to eat
Purely out of hunger
It will not fill you up
It will not fill your cup
With pennies
Otherwise pitched
As though each individual cent
Was never meant
To have a value
Just like you
Yes, you knew
Each year
Through
The judgment
Made by the very government
That gives you a supplement
As if this was designed
For you to
Somehow get to
A place where you can stand
On your own two feet
I cannot stand
To see a crooked con
Smiling his fake smile
In a meet and greet
Smiling his fake smile
Before and after
Using you as a pawn
As quickly as he came
He is gone
Still without shame
Leaving you the victim
Of the convict game