‘Write what you know…’
‘Don’t write it to death…’
‘It’s so eerie and dreary and fills us with dread.’
‘Surely there’s something to write of instead?’
The teachers, their ignorance, stupidness, blindness
It’s all I can see in the world they’ve assigned us
This person, those people – life cut too short
but sure, write of rainbows, go on now, distort.
You can’t live without death –
all the rage in the papers
It’s written on walls now
who cares for those strangers?
It’s not you, it’s not us,
it was her slash his mum
the violence and anger it just carries on.
So I’ll write of death, it’s all that I know.
The living are dead, they’re just still on the road.