All this bile on trial
Looks and smells the same.
Like rotten hell
Like the time I picked up a rock in a stinking alleyway,
Only to find it was covered in wriggling maggots
They had as much a right to life as me,
But somehow didn't seem as important.
I didn't play out for long,
But dreaded going home,
To the fog of rage.
We might have been on the fantastic voyage,
But why was it so painfully bleak?
Surrounded by people who all knew better,
Had toiled longer,
And had their answers,
But still weren't happy.
I could see it on their faces, when they looked at me,
As if I'd missed their expectations by a country mile,
Hard, tough love that never spared the child,
So I kicked them in their faces,
And told them to stay, the fuck, away.
Who cares where the commas go?
As we meander towards the blackness of the end
And the point of no return,
We contemplate the downward track, realising all ascents are in the past.
Our bones creak
As our heart cries out
What is for us now?
Until we realise suddenly
We're in it.
I hope, by then, I've made my peace.
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