Where do dreamers go ?

when reality strikes it's final blow.

The penny drops,

the fairytales read lovingly by mum,

I believed every word,

she is a really good mum,

a fairy indeed,

used to tell me she was out with Father Christmas,

I'd swear from my bedroom,

I saw this,

then the day with the step family from hell,

they all laughed when I discovered Father Christmas didn't exist,

that memory,

still lives in my soul,

just wanted mummy you know.

 

A life existing on all the best Romantic films,

love story,

the way we were,

to name but a few.

I couldn't watch the murders,

the vampires,

as I'm a scardy cat,

you see..

 

All this time I've believed in love,

so stedfast and adamant that it really exists.

But poor little match girl,

still sat on the same step,

as 28 years ago,

down graded to rollies instead of real cigs,

not a spare penny in her purse,

convinced I'm under a gypsy curse.

 

Well I grew up this weekend in rainy June,

torn to pieces in public by a young man.

Lost and don't know what to do,

we were the real Romeo and Julliet,

only a matter of time before one of us takes our lives.

 

Yet being a dreamer a heart,

despite this reality,

I really need to know,

is there a place I can hide ?

be safe,

never again speak of this week.

lick my wounds,

and never again become undone.

 

 

written by a ruin. 24th June 2013

this is written about a young male poet who I predict to be one of the best poets of this centuary.

I'm not preapared to name him for 2 reasons, I still love him and he is neither poorly or nasty, he is simply a very mixed up young man.He brought more love and laughter to my life than anyone ever has and I wish him well.Good luck at the slam on your 25th birthday, knock them dead, 'satisfy the crowds, with your gift, you no longer need me'.Forever wierd mum x