Twittering
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.