I read myself back into the footsteps
I refused to follow because it might
do me good and that makes them right
when they said ‘do as your told and
everything will be fine’ but as long
as its short I give it ago. The child is away
so mother plays desperate for views desperate
for trouble still flinching whenever anyone
thinks my name. I am a survivor and I stand
amongst the documents that prove that I was
there and he was here but today they are confetti
clogging the drains when it rains.
I walk on the ground but it feels
like wet paper.