My Life On The Dole Poem by Paula Glynn

I live my life on the dole,
I have done for many years,
Even though I tried to find work,
I wandered from interview to interview,
Searching for something,
More than working behind a till,
More than packing boxes in a factory.

But times are hard,
And rent has to be paid,
Life goes on outside these four walls,
People are working nine to five,
And those hard workers venture out,
Trains, planes and buses full every,
Morning, noon and night,
While I sit in my apartment,
On the dole and wishing for more.

I am not the most confident,
But I am not a loser:
In spite of being poor,
And the government sees me,
As a useless statistic,
One of the lazy masses,
Claiming benefits,
In an already struggling economy,
Families struggling to pay rent,
And put food on the table.

The bedroom tax is a burden,
The competition for housing,
Overruling the news,
And we are branded scroungers,
Losers, no hopers;
But we are worth more than that,
I am getting on now,
But I worked in my youth,
For I was not always on benefits.

But my neighbors do,
Have to cope with drink and drugs,
Those buildings a breeding ground for crime,
But not all benefit claimers are criminals,
In fact, there are only a few on the dole who are so,
And we all have to survive somehow,
Taking tax payers money and causing anger,
Among the masses who work,
Who worked hard for their education,
Who paid their way in the world,

And I want to be one of them;
I want to be proud,
And have accomplishments,
And I will find a job;
So forgive my rough ways,
And have a cup of tea with me.