I was going to write something completely different today but after the shadows mugged me again I decided to post this. I wrote this when I was about 12 but it never made it to my execise book so no teacher ever knew about it. Maybe that was a mistake, I don’t know.
every word is aimed at me
each one a tiny poison dart
piercing my fragile armour
breaking through defences
that took so long to build
they fall so easily
like my hopes
names shouldn’t hurt like this
sticks and stones and all that shit
but they do hurt
they make me want to cry
but I can’t
i’m supposed to be a big boy now
i want to be five again
wrapped up in my quilted fortress
warm
protected
safe
sleeping through the thunderstorm
Love
Wow!
I don’t think you could have got away with writing ‘shit’ – that would certainly have earned punishment at our school. But it’s very good, methinks for all that. I’d have given you an ‘A*’ for it.
The funny thing is that the English Master I had then would have loved me using the word, very progressive type. If the head had seen it things might have got tricky.
Thanks, I was never a good judge of my own poems and they got better marks than I ever expected. This one made life difficult for a few people but I’m still pretty sure it would have caused me more trouble than them. That’s how worked at home, assume it was my fault first and then if I stood by my accustaion after punishment there might be something wrong after all.