like the mould on your jam
like the fly in your soup
like your flies left undone
like left out of the loop

like the day that you’re fired
like the day she walks out
like the day your team’s thumped
like the day you first doubt

like a fridge without beers
like a sole with a hole
like being guilty as charged
like being internet trolled

like the friend who betrays
like the friend you betray
like the sister who grates
like the brother you’d slay

like the like you must fake
like when hope goes on strike
like the unlike of dreams
like a second Third Reich

like a headache in heaven
like a double-edged gift
like a stye in your eye
like a fart in a lift

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Tom Vaughan  would be pleased to hear them