more

there was never enough…never…a banquet would be laid out for all to partake…but she wanted more…always more…

like a child in a highchair with small spoon in hand…shaking fists and crying out…more…more…more…not that…this…hop to it…come-on now…liven your step…

these cries of greed woke-up all…she was noticed…requests duely noted and adhered to…what choice does one have…all this screaming and yelling…

what America wants…America gets….one way or another…she’ll get her’s….

she will cry…kick…scream…call names…because more was sometimes slowly served….

and she wonders why desert never came…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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