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When I think of school!
All the wayward kids…
During lockdown I stopped feeling poetic and started succumbing to the serrated steel fuel of nostalgia. Got to thinking too much about school and all the people I’ll never meet again. Even if I did I’d probably nod and walk the other way…too much time has passed.
She was calm, foggy headed, ugly-ugly, stunk stunk stunk real bad
in the way only an unloved kid can stink
She stunk of sadness
She stunk of waywardness and backwardness
She stunk of regret
She stunk of not wanting to have been born
She stunk of no chances in any saloons or rooms
She stunk of no-one wanting to be near her
She stunk of her own looks in the mirror
She stunk of all hope lost before its been canvassed
She stunk of humanised woe
She stunk of every morning she had to bend down and tie her shoes lace
She stunk of knowing no answer to any questions asked
She stunk of every line in her forehead navigating misery
She stunk of life lived in a coffin and daylight was painful
