I couldn't scream

I couldn't scream. My chest was too tight.

Austerity's over.
A budget for all.

Reading the papers and watching the news; the future is bright, the lean days are gone (well almost, nearly, soon).
But dig a bit deeper and the PR is clear.

I couldn't scream. My head was exploding.

A few weak jokes in and the winners are named. Some dosh for the Queen but no mention of women denied their state pension.
Their protest was vocal though little reported.

I couldn't scream. My throat was too full.

Some tax cuts and freezes; for me and for you?
Well the rich hit the jackpot whilst the poor remain poor - in fact on average £400 worse off than in 2015.

I couldn't scream. My anger overwhelming.

A 'little' extra for schools for that's all they need.
Not for pens, or books nor loo paper though as teachers still have to beg parents for these.

Hundreds of thousands of kids with no homes.

Nearly two million pensioners in poverty.

Two thousand plus foodbanks.

The list it goes on and on and on.

No mention of these or indeed of the planet.

And when Fiscal Phil takes his seat to smug satisfaction his colleagues gear up to jeer at (any) critique.

Out of touch.
Out of compassion.
Out of respect.
Out of humanity.

Scream. I couldn't stop.