Wreckage

Why do you wrap yourself in that,

It’s a filthy rag?

Why do you hold it close,

Clenched up in your hands?

 

God, don’t breath it in,

Poisoned petrol fumes,

Why do you linger here?

That dead dark never moves.

 

Why do you look at them with hungry eyes?

Is it because they don’t see you here?

Is that too unkind?

 

This is your darkness, where bitter thoughts get done.

This is justification of fears you crave.

Here is the proof that every hope gets frayed.

 

You look at them not looking at you,

You run into hurt,

You grow the bruise.

 

I wish you’d come away,

Your little hands are filthy now.

You’ll catch your death I’m sure,

Sat on that cold hard ground.

 

The smells in your hair,

Running over your goose-bumped skin.

It weighs down the damp,

It rots the wreckage within.

 

I could leave you here

In those foul, old fumes.

I could leave you here

For all the good I do.

 

You’re watching them

Through vision that’s bruised.

You’re watching them,

But child,

Who’s watching you?