Unquiet Desperation
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Author Topic: Cheap Weetabix. No Milk Just Tears  (Read 1258 times)
Pater
Galileo Galilei
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Pressed wrong button in p'port photo booth...


« on: April 06, 2013, 11:00:04 AM »

This poem was written by someone, a lass, I've recently got to know. It's a reflection on her experience of a long time, many years, in a shit run care home for children.


Wherever you seek your soul,
the sanctuaries
when lost the stations
of the cross you bear it may be,
out of the corner of your eye
a stranger yet not a stranger
for you know these things,
a little Hitler
is what you will see.
 
No room for you with a view,
just the thoughts behind the barbed wire
these guards of what you never were
have strung, the gate they lock each night,
for they are righteous and at each corner
of each street you are retaken;
freedom is not even physical
when the electrified mind is bleached white.
 

Written on their page the stanzas
and the rage; you are defined,
even the prettiest of your mind rhymes.
Destroyed wherever you go;
time after time; till time ends.

by A Girl Unknown
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