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Sep 2019
Council house dilapidated and brittle as the bones
     That inhabited it, invalid mother bedridden,drugdazed
With a prescription-based carnival skull and sore lungs
   sustained from years of cigarettes and TB.

In the night there was machine gun coughter, foxes
        howling frost -if you looked outside you could see them
stringing silver from their fangs on the street below-
   And I went downstairs to fix her some tea
          because for the first time in years she asked me

And the storm outside lifted the window to the edges
     of it's brims

And I felt a stinging ping as an ache
    Spread the crevice of my spine

And I thought 'is this it? is this the life I've instore?'
        and as it turns out,it was it.

                                        It is it.

I remember once lying on that cold kitchen floor
     after getting home from school
worried about something or another,
   biting my nails and dreaming a hundred million
Futures on the ceiling and wondering how they could ever

           Come true.
Not as polished as I'd like but oh well
Written by
J J  20/M/UK
(20/M/UK)   
127
   B D Caissie and Fawn
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