Archie Bunker’s lament

Day 18. Prompt: write a good for nothing poem

Ah those good old days
of Archie Bunker’s lament,
when we all knew our places,
the (cis white) men wore the pants,
and everyone else just had to pretend
that a trickle (down) was enough
to stave off the angry thirst
that turned flesh to husk
back in those good old
good for nothing days.

What do you think?

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