It’s Just That We’re Poles Apart!

I understand your educational attainment,

and my lack of the same.

Yes, we had an arrangement,

but the answer is plain.

You are from the right side of the road,

with breeding and some such things,

I’m here to be a middle-class goad,

with the hope of what life brings.

Your accent advertises you position,

mine shows something the same.

Your’s come with a clear and precise diction.

Me? I’m a part of the slumming game.

It’s not that I feel inferior,

or even that you overwhelm my modest ego.

Just that there seems nothing but your veneer,

while I always have the urge to up and go.

May be our paths shouldn’t have crossed,

and that fate dropped a clanger that day.

For me, I couldn’t be tossed,

so go on and scream that you think that I’m gay.

Ironically it’s the first time I’ve seen real emotion,

an opening up of your steely façade.

Fancy you causing a working class commotion,

yet closing the gap still seems far too hard.

As the planet as given us an option,

geography could be the answer we need.

So let’s stop causing a fraction.

I’m off north, you south. Now freed!



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