Ah, the
complete
Utter, total
Reliability
of the English
Family.
The game of
Travel
Scrabble.
That solid
certainty
Of the
measured, considered
Conversation.
Assailed by
pain
I leant
forward
Quietly
asked if Mother had any
Paracetamol
was
Immediately
rewarded with
Kind eyes
and an innate understanding.
She saw the
trauma.
I sipped,
gratefully the
Spare water
donated from her bag.
My exhausted
tears spilled onto
Scribbled poetry.
Drifting in
and out of their
Conversations
I heard Father say,
Whilst
discussing a dilemma,
‘It depends
on
Where your
conscience lies’
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