by Tim Connelly
A call comes at day's end.
My doctor's appointment has been canceled.
Nothing new.
“No, you don't understand,
the doctor has retired, sorry.”
That's the government.
Have a nice day, too.
Anger consumes me.
I fear my health will suffer.
The system has failed me, once again.
My healthcare put in jeopardy, once again.
I feel like a beggar.
Screwed, once again.
No one cares...
Wave the flag...
Rattle the saber..
Buy the message...
Serve your country...
End up in line...
Waiting all the time...
Cursing the day
I bought the bulls...
Tim Connelly is a veteran and poet of The Lost War. He appreciates the health care he receives from the government but it has made him a professional neurotic. Someday he would like to appear before a death panel.
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