Journalling eternally
Fulfilling something deep in me;
Nurturing maternally
The turmoil that stews in me;
Harnessing and channelling
The things that I find challenging;
The doubting and the piss-taking,
The venom-spat crap shit-talking.
The bothering, the bullying,
The bitching and the bollockings,
The two-faced pre-teen teasing,
Taunting, testing, second-guessing;
And the you can’t dance, and you can’t sing.
The slouching, acne,
You’re too fat,
You’re weird, you’re gross,
You can’t do that;
And shut your mouth, and sit back down;
The “Alright love, don’t have to frown”.
The fucking fights
And family
And friends
And “friends”,
And poverty.
And punishment and petulance,
And ill-judged verbal flatulence.
For every nasty, angry lie–
Another verse, another line,
Another day not in my mind.
Just ugly words for pretty rhymes.


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