Maybe things are not so bad. Rhyme.
Things are bad and that’s no joke.
I’ve paid the bills and now I’m broke.
Can’t start the car, started to rain.
I’ve dropped my doorkeys down the drain.
My wife’s asleep in bed with flu.
I can’t get in what can I do?
An open window I climb in.
I knock the vase it starts to spin.
The vase that I displayed with pride.
Given to me when my Nan died.
It topples, falls, then hits the floor.
That nice old vase is vase no more.
Remember as I clear the bits.
My Nan’s stories of the blitz.
V.1’s, bombs, incendiaries.
Delivered by our enemies.
Home wrecked twice by fire and blast.
Lost all her treasures from the past.
Piercing wailing hellish sound.
Buildings crashing to the ground.
Women screaming, children dying.
Grown men wandering dazed and crying.
Bodies lying torn apart.
Sights that would break any heart.
It makes me think, it makes me mad.
Why should I think that things are bad.
I'll thank the Lord for what I’ve got.
For I am blessed with quite a lot.
And my Nan’s tales of folk’s despair?
I’m really glad I wasn’t there.