To the friends at jobcenter; please get a waiting room for families and children.

In February/ March time I was rocky on my feet and needed to start up a new life and new claim , and carry on my journey to attempting to revisit my degree which I hope to be doing later this year. It was 30mph record winds and I had arrived early at the centre with my 7 month old daughter and 3 year old son. He was cold and shivering so I went inside the job center only to be told to get out and that I’m not allowed to stand inside and that they took away the waiting room. So this is a poem based on a bad time, and a stinky attitude.
*
You can kick me out on my arse,
Make a deal,
Make a farce,
Make me look like I’m a mess!
A waste of space, a waste of breath,
You can chuck me out on my arse!
You can make me look like I’m useless,
But take it out on my kids,
My Baines,
You’ll see a woman, that you’ve made,
I scrape and scrimp, I raise and wimp,
A generation for the next tax profiting chimps,
You think I’m dumb,
No, I’ve had enough,
Now get a waiting room made for us!
Make us stand in freezing cold,
To sign on for money that I have been told,
I must claim whilst I’m on a break,
I’m sick,
Disabled,
Just child birthed,
And if you haven’t heard,
Marriage is dying off!
Men seem to get off lightly?
And this is what disturbs me slightly!
That you can,
You can kick me out on my arse!
Make a deal,
Make a farce,
Make me look like I’m a mess!
A waste of space, a waste of breath,
You can chuck me out on my arse,
You can make me look like I’m a waste,
But take it out on my kids!
My Baines ,
You’ll see a woman that you’ve made…

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