A letter to the Economy

The draughtsmen have given up on you the bakery keeps on producing floppy cakes can you ever be mended.? or you are untamed like the Wildebeest. Mankind has toiled under the sun to birth you and for you to produce a good harvest but you slaughter our throats with a blade of disappointment. One by one we surrender and choke to your wonders. l blame you for my malnourished buttocks. My insides play a terrible band of groans because l can not suckle, at your saggy dry breast. You allow us to graduate with honors and masters yet we master nothing. you rob us of our intended professions. Fixed with a prefix of Netflix, we shift the literacy struggle and we focus on movies and social media. I am a hero in my own zero Smartly dressed yet depressed we may never know who you victimise next.