Opportunity for the Middle Class


I am the hunter, she is the bird.

I reach and reach but cannot hold.

Opporunity is her name.

She flaps her wings and flies away.

I hit my head, again and again.

On the cold hard ground in pure frustration.

I am an average hunter, not too bad nore an expert.

A bad hunter is helped by others as his crutch.

People raise him from his poorly state.

An expert is experienced and bests the bunch.

He does not really care for her, but shoots anyway.

Someone in the middle, just like me.

Will never catch her, my dear Opportunity.

Why, you may rebuff? 

Because they always tell me, I am good enough.

But good enough is not good enough for Opportunity.

I will never catch her, because I have to be on either end of the community.

No one cares about the middle, average, median or mean.

We reap what we sow, and what I sow isn't green.

All I ask for is a little unity.

And a real chance to catch her.




Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741