Mr Albanese; All of the Upside, None of the Risk

You may call it fair.

You may call it reform.

You may stand in Budget light

with a tie and a storm.

You may say real gain.

You may say shared load.

You may put forty-seven

at the end of the road.

But you were not there.

You were not there

when the rent came due,

when the till said no,

when the bank said you.

You were not there

when the idea got laughed

out of three small rooms

and one good draft.

You were not there

when the wages went first,

when I drank the fear,

when the month got worse.

All of the upside.

None of the risk.

A silent partner

with a public fist.

Tax me, yes.

Roads need tar.

Beds need nurses.

Kids need a start.

Mercy needs dishes.

Even hope

comes with invoices.

But do not arrive

after the fall,

after the dice,

after the wall.

Do not come smiling

when the danger is gone,

asking half the fire

from the idiot who burned.

The worker on tools.

The owner out back.

The driver, the coder,

the cleaner in black.

We know the same ledger.

We know the same rain.

We know what it costs

to stand up again.

So do not bottle resentment

and label it fair.

Do not point at the shopfront

and call it repair.

Do not call the harvest

an act of theft.

Do not weigh only the profit

and not what it left.

You were not there

when the last card failed,

when the staff looked through me,

when the good news bailed.

You were not there

when I wondered at night

if I was lonely and wrong

or lonely and right.

You were not there

when I taught myself

in the dark after work,

with a cup on the shelf.

All of the upside.

None of the risk.

You missed the long night.

You kept the list.

I know what I built.

I know what it cost.

I know every dollar

that walked into loss.

I know every room

where they said I would fail.

I know every hope

that arrived with a bill.

And still I kept going.

Not noble. Not grand.

Just one stupid candle

in one tired hand.

F.S.F

tax #CGT #47% #fair #australianbusiness